Wednesday, July 20, 2016

|| a sign ||

In my Ganga
I live
You are my Yamuna
like in my Krishna
you are my Radha

In your words
I touch
in your thirst for words
I quench the thirst of my soul
I surrender my eternal longing
Carried upon the vessel of your words
I reach
the source of the Yamuna, your heart
the colour of the cotton tree flower
silks buds hidden
awaiting the flowering
gift of the mustard flower
preceding spring

Sometimes rain falls
on the island bosom
of the river
as waves write
the longing of the river’s heart
as I do

On the sandy bank
of the ocean
whirlpools tell of
dream pools of the sea
as you do

On the deserted shore
of the earth
sometimes dew
sometimes a raindrop
a matchless ballad
of unfulfilled desire
for me and you

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