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 UNDER
THE DUVET
*Last night I wrote a poem in my head
But found nothing to write it down
This morning I remembered
not a word
How welcome it felt then, half a world away
From the sights, sounds, smells of the world outside
Nothing possible, emptiness
provoking me to yarn my dreams of the Hortus Conclusus
A return to the womb – Till daylight-burst
returned sight, sound, smell and the world outside
TRUTH
I am a lie
And you are a lie
And the truth
lies in between us
About which
you don't know
That I don't know
A Wish
I don't believe in miracles but I wish
That when death takes me from the midst of this world
It permit me just the once
to return from the grave
To call at your door and if you answer
to be of solace to you if you need someone to console your grief
and if you don't to return once more to oblivion
LOVE
I yearn with all the bonds of body and soul
Not knowing why
She has neither a charming patch nor a svelte figure nor a zest
for life
If she does have any talent
I know nothing of it
But then why!
I fly in some chimera beyond the circles of time
In thought, dreaming in self-extrinsicality and intrinsicality
of performance
night and day
My blood chants only her name in its circuits
Who is unaware of my desire
Erelong she hurries by
As if aware
Of my loves
As if she has heard the narratives of heart and sight
Just like me
She flies in some chimera beyond the circles of time
In thought, dreaming in self-extrinsicality and intrinsicality
of performance
night and day
She yearns with all the bonds of body and soul
Not knowing why
And as I think, she thinks too
To herself
If ever we meet we will completely expose the recesses of
mirrors
Strip them completely bare
And hand in hand corroborate a journey upon principles of
reality
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