The Evening on Frosty Wings

 And then evening descended on his frosty wings,
spreading the mellow winter chill around.
Far away like a candle, light grey,
of devotion, she beamed at me
with love dancing on her head like the crimson flame!
Well in mine it has always been her name,
like a chant, my heartbeats, a rosary –
until I am dead and my breathing stops,
till I am born again in the throes of her love!

  

Then the evening wrapped his wings around
the world, when his feet touched the ground,
in an evil scheme to seduce
some of us with an illusion of hope,
the poets who cannot trace their Muse
and those with no poetry inside
and they in numbers came, giving theirs’ up!

   

But her light grey beams of pure devotion
have painted me a heaven out of my hell,
telling me in whispers, time and again,
I have Poetry and she has me as well!

  

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Transparent Tears

        

Though my tears are too transparent to see,
must you never look for it on my chin?
Must you never feel how the raging wind
change its color and the wild smell, outside
from sunny yellow to a gloomy grey,
from fire to earth when touched by drops of rain?

       

Have you ever wondered why the clouds cry?
Who fills them to their brims with tears and why?
You must look southward, look towards the sea!
There, in its saline depth you shall find me,
along its length and breadth you can discern
my tears as foamy waves on the run!

      

Yes, I know my tears were too transparent to see
but had you ever sought them, even in your dreams?

         

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No Line To Demarcate

I wonder where is the line in between
good and evil or say, base and divine,
what is right and what is wrong, beyond
our petty human selves and subjective minds!

I wonder too, how does one separate
one’s follies from tangible achievements;
what tasted like success yesterday,
by tomorrow would be another fall in life!

Well, perhaps there is none to demarcate
or what line there was, once upon a time
has blurred into a fuzzy place,
neither black nor white but a distinct shade of grey!

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