The golden margins

 

He or what I believe is Him

Glances into my blank canvas

From behind the golden frame

As often moon slits the dark sky

His silver flows into a smudged world

My drops defy the pull from below

They leap with an enchanted charm

At the highest drop on the tide

The coin nearly drowns into his pocket

Then the inevitable fall shatters this spell

And the conjuring continues all night

The perpetual rise and fall of life !

Those who drift in the bright day

Are wrapped gently in glitter

For the spectrum often illuminates

From far beyond the golden margins

Rishikesh

6.7.25

20.11 hrs

2301

The response

 

The eruption of first shrill tear

That welcomes nascent infancy

But with a slight pinch of pain

While there is joy all around

To the last hollow sigh within

That fails to find resonance

Among the succeeding specks

For there is no next breath

There is an infinite relief stacked

Among shrieks of utmost sorrow.

The day long wait for a return

Of the Master who leaves in light

And remembers to knock in the dark

Ends with a wrinkled forehead

Only to wrap the folds in morning

And to wait again in the groping light.

The joy of a hopeful heart basks upon;

The pain of an ailing soul suffers amidst;

The stoic response of a counter pane.

Rishikesh

2300

21.45 hrs

3.7.25

The furrows

 

After the flood devastates

The crumbling walls of hope

The sprouting dreams gasp

When they drown in downpour 

The last mile stretch was sown

With an expectation of success

When nothing was held back 

The leap to avoid being stranded

Now falls with a splash into the gush

As the flow thickens every inch 

It tears into the brittle muddy walls

That cave in to this fierce onslaught 

Drop by drop I see the cascading disaster

When there are drops in my eye

A rainbow garlands the little up sky

The precipitation vaporizes eventually

After a few days of extended wait

Some slender cradles germinate 

From the ridges that failed to bind

The still crumbled and barren furrows.

Delhi

23 19 hrs

2299

21.6.25

The cloud

 

After a long tar clad starlit glitter

Where the night could barely grope

Trudging her way out  to a hatching dawn

She drapes but a cloudy morning 

When the hope was for a dazzling sky

The smothered sun slithers his way

Merely manages a faded smile in the sky

But the residual day is still too long

To surrender to the extended laziness

And strife is the only choice he has

The sun stays suspended in a compelled hope 

For the dusk fails to stretch her wing 

To this point of a  failed flare in the day

Then the breeze blows to torment clouds

As they clash to burst their own seam

And shed their graying rumination 

The drops return to their wonted fold

Pouring through the scratches of gnawing silver

The waves swallow their truant offspring

The clouds vanish to leave a vibrant rainbow

In celebration of the one who had no choice

But to bide his time and continue to shine.

Rishikesh 

2298

16 05 hrs

15.6.25

Lost to find

 

Lost somewhere in the deep

Afar from the vibrant shore

That was just a row afar

The adrift in time has undone

Hours of rowing with hope

Of a morsel under sandy shade

Now the sun scorches again

As the waves simmer at noon

Followed by the aging of the day

That shows growing signs of grey

The painful dark that frightens

While the tides that rock sonorously

They toss up the world towards skies

From that instant of utter turmoil

A glitter of another shore beckons

The oars are ready for another battle.

Rishikesh

2297

7.6.25

12.19 hrs

The tide on banks

 

Sliding through the flow

Amidst a moonlit night

From the cloud clad horizon

Waiting for the moment of glitter

Where the silver reflection down

Would brush past my bosom

For I have worn the silvery garb

Many a time in my stark paleness

When awaiting this brief touch

They believe my pretence fills

The silvery twinkle in distant skies

While I find everywhere only sparkle

For nothing else comes to my sight.

Just when the wait would hatch purpose

The dawn pulls off the dark spell

The moon slowly dissolves in the day

The horizon of my dream recedes again

While I wait in hope amidst tepidity

Only to lose another night to a morn.

Till the flow reaches a meaningful delta

Where dipped in brine my flow is wild

Tonight the lunar tug is ubiquitous

The silvery touch is perpetual

And the rays of faith hold the belivers

In their skyward sojourn

After a long long wait for touch

They experience a tide on the banks.

Rishikesh

00.06 hrs

4.6.25

2296

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