Being A Human

On empty nights like this when the soft wind has shaken off
the bitter chill from the final days of winter this year
and from the summer scorch still a few parching days away,
when the wind is yet to become stale, too humid and warm,

I recall being a human too,
moaning from the emptiness like a fool.

When the time is craving to be loved and her starry gown
is taken off too hastily from an urge to belong,

I recall being a human too
burning from desires, green, red and blue.

As vibrant sounds of life return starting with the pious calls
to wake up from sleep and to pray, the birds soon follow suit,
the chorus of hungry chirping birds like a lullaby
tells the time to put on her robe, sunny blue like the day.

When she begins to don her dress, translucent, gold and pink
my longing and desire, the human memories I had,
like the silent stars from the gown she had on her earlier,
all fade away in the yellow blaze of the morning sun.


4 thoughts on “Being A Human

  1. The recurring theme of winter in your works leads me to believe you crave for the warmth of the sun. Metaphorically speaking! Please correct me if I’m wrong.

    Liked by 1 person

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