I will walk naked in the breeze,
Find a sea shell waves left as a present.
Catch an evening orange ray mid flight,
And the ambient roar of tranquil sea,
Perfume with salty smell of winds,
Scribble in ancient tongues of the sea,
Stories frothing waves did tell.

Hence, will bring the sea to you.

Slowly tear the page,
And fold into a plane,
Blow a lungful of air into its tail,
And throw it, onto the winds.

Some will fly to faraway lands,
Some will nose dive into the rocks.
But one may travel into the clouds,
And come back to you,
Stealing fragrances from the north wind.

Still,
Take another dream,
Make another plane.

A report is to be made.
Highlighting our accomplishments,
Painting the failings in favorable tones
And concealing the blunders,
Under the carpet floor.

Thinking up a careful draft,
With delicate play of words.
I picked my pen,
And instead wrote a poem.

And a sojourn with light is nigh.

Lighter in spirit,
Easier to soar.

Whisper a love note to the breeze,
Pass it on to the sun.
For the light and the warmth.

The dusk descends in its time,
And then night.
Earth receive what is its,
A promise fulfilled.

Earth bound spirits,
Nourish sleeping seeds,
Till their hibernation concludes.

Meera united with her beloved in divine ecstasy.
Yogis levitated into the clouds.
Sufis whirled in cosmic trance.
Arun is an asshole still.

And one day vainly looking for me in my room,
You saw some snow flakes and half burnt furniture,
And heard faint echo of hissing fire.
Had you looked up at the sky then,
You could have glimpsed a dragon’s spiked tail,
Disappearing into the clouds.

Once when the noisy rolling shutters of the garage was pushed up,
A one horned rhinoceros nonchalantly stood there.
It was not that the dinner did not agree with you.

Now I sit curled up with pillows, my writing pad and pen,
Musing on my transfigurations.
Do not be surprised if you find a python,
Ruminating on my bed.

Somewhere in the eagerness to impress,
And make a name,
I forgot to listen to their silent whisperings
And read their secret signs.

In a heavenly generosity they indulged my conceit,
But privately grieved probably,
Of someone who sat on the treasure chest,
And squabbled over nickels.

Could be a precious smile,
Born in the spirited heart,
Grew with the skimming breeze
And lighted up your face.

Perhaps, a weighted tear,
Born when the frozen heart,
Met the warmth of love,
And trickled down your eyes.

May be a tale of sweat and blood,
Weaved with thine own brain or brawn.
Of love that labored in winter nights,
To keep the truth and shine the light.

Or, an idea in a trick box,
That lights up on opening,
Grows wings among fragrant fumes,
And one on each wing,
Carry us where magic brews.

But, Do not come empty handed.
You can not, even if you try.

Undaunted in defeat,
It does not last unless he gave up.
Sombre in victory,
A final victory is not a possibility.

His enemies have seen their choicest weapons,
rendered futile at his gaze.
They fear him.
His people have seen the demons of their worst nightmares,
Die tamely by his sword.
They fear him too.

They offered to make him one of the kings,
If he would abandon his battle.
And promised to venerate him posthumous,
With a memorial in the town square.

But he will fight,
To keep his right,
To fight his fight.