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Posts Tagged ‘Love’

Spokes on the spinning wheel now roar with fire.
Who says stones don’t burn and not ever retire?
Wind cuts the craft when tossed with art in dust,
Every stroke on this wheel rhymes that holy gyre.

What has begun in the dark soul of an unknown,
Also ends among the witnesses of most known.
Spoke to spoke now not touch but push to move
The rim of our life, the realm of an unending love.

Light writes the sculpture, else nothing means
The desire we stand before and stare in love.

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Those splashes of water from the puddle in the field,
With colours that make you feel will as if now get tamed
By my call, or even by a whisper in this crowded world.
Those humming birds among naked leaves now draped
In the mist, in the music of my childhood seem to shield
Whatever is beautiful, whatever I wish from this world.

Steps and so many of them that the spirit refuses to jump;
There I see the bell among the clouds that form like trees.
Sailor to sailor now say ahoy, with waves sounding hope.
I will but take only that voice with me that called with ease
My soul that stands with flowers of spring and a cold winter.

When it’s dark call me again, among the stars I will look
At you and your smile that makes so much the life’s brook.

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And what if, it all ends in a whisper;
Frozen walls, iced words, and eyes cold?
Peace flapping it’s wings to lead the soul
To a much lighter space where exists
The emptiness for one’s stricken desire.
 
You are where you ought to be in life,
Or you will look at these moments someday
And laugh most like a baby in the cradle
Does when sees it’s mother who will hold.
A finger that will lead to hold it more tight
Among winds through the curtains in cold.
 
What point does this race make to us,
While the heart wants air to breathe
And looks so eagerly among the smiles?
We will come again to the tossed mirror
And face the questions of our conquest.
We will be born again to seek the light
When our soul would ask again to rest.

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The contours of our memories so much seek,
So much like whisper come out in blank silence.
Here are the butterflies chasing the wild swan,
Here comes the song from love’s forgotten peak.
If death be like a blanket that hides the world
Before our eyes and smell of that sweet petrichor;
There is this soul in you that will stand like cold
White, snow-dipped mountain in the darkness.

Yes, here’s the home, and that luminous page of life;
Come not draped in ignorance but with your story.
Soul to soul will whisper the same surrendered strife.
The eyes will get heavier with the tear than the being
When it drops, and waves you see in air around sing,
Everything leaves to meet everything we know in life.

Here’s the home, here’s that flame we forever seek.
Come soon, before I fly again to that love’s peak.

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Nothing, almost nothing remains after time decides;
No spring, no fall, no waiting under the waning moon,
No desire before the setting sun, but the mad tides.
We smile, we stand so much in courage every time;
We will look at the floating clouds and whisper soon,
We are here to breathe, and here always to rhyme.

The rainbow that our soul seeks will appear again,
There will be the sun and at a distance it will rain.
Rose to rose will whisper what love shines again.
Among those words in hunger, there will be rhyme
For an incessant, unheard thirst of this souls’ pain.
We shall meet again and tell the story of our life.
We shall kiss under the rainbow and more bargain.

Time repeats and tosses what we thought will live
Till it finds enough ground for our souls to give.
Love will stand through those tides and not flicker,
And declare the time where the rainbow is forever.

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If time was to settle or pause among the pristine powers,
A flute is enough to play and save through the breathing rocks.
What is madness, if can’t converse with the countable stars?
What air is of profit if doesn’t hold the soul that death mocks?

The treasure of our times will be those smiles that we record.
The pursuit of our passion if not inspire, then to what respite?
Awake! Here it stands stronger than we know anything else.
Listen! To This voice of yours that echoes love our heart tells.

Sometimes, it’s among those tired leaves where love wrote.
Sometimes, it’s among a thousand waves where soul floats.
What profit is our rhyme here, if not toss our ego for light.
A step, a breath, a story that awaits you on the bed this night.

Awake! Yet again, you will starve and feed, drink the thirst.
But Oh, never give up on those dreams that live in your heart.

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Met an old potter today after crossing the forest;
Old enough to lift the clay that was seeing him
For a long time, with water turned vapour now
And holding still to the air that touched it long ago.
And he greets me saying ‘here comes the mad man,
Here comes the one who couldn’t water the clay’.

Only the heart knows the dream it lives and loves,
Amid springs and falls that the river breathes.
Such emptied souls that multiply more emptiness
Such unflinching evenings and darkness around.
The potter, the wheel, the clay and the aged art
All will now shape this soul for sure salvation.

The decadence of those smiles will lure the obscure;
And the mad man will walk to find again the same clay.

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