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You live in those places in me
From where memory is first born
Where thoughts unfettered by fate
And untouched by destiny
Takes birth on its own free will
And lives on with a single desire

The desire to be one
With you.

Nothing else that matters
Matter.

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Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.

Spiral

Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.

Gratis

Growing up, I would throw small pebbles across placid water bodies and watch them bounce and skate over the shimmering surface. If I had competition, we would count the bounces and both the winner and loser will nurse a sore shoulder by evening. Neither the lake, nor the pebbles cared, and the universe, like a quantum experiment, was both the observer and the observed. Or maybe we were being played and they were the audience. To all the pebbles and the lakes that survive...thank you for that space... in time.

Works of RK

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