Beauty, Amplified!

Beauty, Amplified!

“Where is she?”, a voice wailed inside my head.
“There she is!”, another, moments later, replied
in ecstasy and my pupils dilated
at her sight, haloed by the rainbow colored lights.

 

Indeed, she is far prettier than our prettiest dreams,
more beautiful than pure beauty can ever be,
for her other half, forever dark and unseen,
turns beauty to a feeling, mere eyes fail to see.

 

A feeling, reverberating across
our synapses, remaining lodged within
a few neural paths, waiting for a stimulus,
or a set of stimuli – sharp, blunt, serrating,
is better than a mere sight, quicker too
on the release of all the rest with Dopamine!

 

And beauty, when all pure and absolute
like that when with impurity she overflows,
is often only half as beautiful
as when she is in harmony with her darkness,
like knowledge that knows the depth of her ignorance…
Don’t you see, the most beautiful time of the day
is when darkness unites with the shimmering light,
once at dawn and once at the dying hour of the sun?


 

O Night, Tender Night

O Night, Tender Night

O Night, tender night, I miss the darkness
of your silent hours, when the society
is dead asleep! Introspection that shreds
myself to pieces in search of the light
demands prolonged hours of darkness in solitude!

   

Now I too must surrender to the whims
and wishes of my frail limbs, the pinnacle
of evolution, one step in front of the chimps!

   

Pity for my empty dreams I have through the night
like the rest, of belonging to a higher step
the next day; higher not ahead on a stairway
built on the whispering wind and vague promises
of a better day, at the cost of one’s neighbors’ demise!

    

As the dawn spreads across the horizon,
a darkness grows inside despite the rising sun.
Soon the forged manacle of time with its tick-tocking,
incessant, pushes me over the edge of sanity.

   

And though I know, absolute freedom too is disastrous,
amid so many shining abattoirs
on every walk of life, I am neither cruel
nor fat enough to take either roles, so I pray –
O Night, tender night, I miss growing mad the other way!

.


 

Monday Blues

Monday Blues

Do what you think might suit you best,
shed no tears for my pain!
I have suffered enough to have grown
indifferent to all sufferings,
if and when sadness starts pushing me
to a corner, yet again!
What I cannot do and nor should you ask,
is to desecrate my humble dreams!

What else do I have to graze on?
What else do we ever have to sustain
a dull, gray and placid existence,
comprised of breaths piled upon laborious breaths?
The moonlight does not paint
her petals on the ground everyday
on nights when she does, with a serene smile
I shall let you take all my dreams away!

But when the waning moon is too dim like tonight
and the chill in the northern wind
pierces our skeletons with ease,
for hardship though, both here and in the past
I need your soft, enveloping warmth
to save them for the next day, both yours and mine,
until the next dawn, perhaps when the night ends
or let this one be O Lord, my last!

Duly then a new sun comes up, setting
the sky on fire, the next dawn never comes.
Half smiling in silence, I remain a human-owl,
as from dust to dust my soul returns!

.


 

A Phantom’s Love

A Phantom’s Love

But what if I said, “No, it is not just your poems
I admire, it is you in your entirety!”
instead of the silence I sent your way,
what would you have done or said in reply?
   

Perhaps such shocks have grown too mundane already
for one as elegant and full of charms as you
and bards like me roam the world in millions,
so would you have swallowed hard and unfollowed me?
    

I have seen you when moonlight rained down from the sky
glowing like a camellia or an eglantine,
the way you paled a rogue dawn with your blush
and the Sun’s golden hue with a spark of your smile!
    

But it’s better to leave some doubts unanswered for
and some others yet, unquestioned, forevermore!

.


 

The Wait At Noon

The Wait At Noon

   

The dawn rolls into the lull of a noon
but all the hours of the day always seem,
similar like an endless afternoon
for the distance of the sun turns it so,
my heart forever pining for the warmth
and harmony that radiate from her smile!

   

Perhaps deep inside the wait has begun,
through the weight of social chains and demands,
for the spring, her sweet colors, lush and green,
the winter has come, how far can spring be!

   

This is winter, I know it should be cold
but her face makes it warm, does she know?
If she can hear let her have these from me,
Send her warmth my way, I’m praying but, will she?

   

.