Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Stroke of the brightest white!

I have five bright shining geese. White and shining. Wait. Is it five? Let me count again. Sometimes they look like four. Sometimes like six. I have no heart to count them, they are that beautiful. But I believe they are five.

 I had five curiously round pebbles which lived in my pocket through a long journey. But then when i came upon a river, the river gave me in exchange of the pebbles, one by one, nice and full 'plops'. Hearing an original and authentic plop can satisfy a thirst much deeper than what gallons of water can't. Plops enter through the ears and roll down all the way into the heart, where they float like soap bubbles reflecting all joys and sorrows into a weirdly merged and stretched images.

Bubbles don't live forever. One day i realized that they were not there anymore. Bubbles leave without a trace! They leave behind only a blank wonder. It is difficult to snap out of that blankness.

 So I wandered aimlessly reeling under its spell. That was the day these bright creatures walked in. They didn't fly in. They crossed the street, marching in a straight line, quacking loudly. They didn't stop even to look at me and walked right into my farm. We all roared with the most unstoppable laughter  which made the beautifully funny creatures quack with even more indignation.  They live here now as if they own this place and spend the long afternoon swimming and then cleaning and drying their wings.

I never asked them where they came from. But one day i picked up one of the feathers that drop in an occasional brawl. I moved it gently on the surface of the lake water till it rippled into an image revealing a lost memory.

The moon of a dark cloudy sky and the lotus of a silent lake swept the night. They stared at each other, drowning in each other's spell. Their intoxicated love trembled on the edge of an undiscovered orgasm for hours. And then as the growing tremble grew into a wave, it swept through the night, making the wind rise and roar. The wind swung around the tall trees tripping and falling and singing loudly like a drunkard on an empty street. When it came tumbling down into the silent lake he created not just ripples but a whirpool casting a blur over the entire night. Everyone closed their eyes. When silence returned it carried something alive and of the most heart aching beauty. When eyes opened once again ignoring a wordless excitement that terrorized the heart, there shining brighter than the moon  and more pristine than the lotus, the magic geese floated on the once again still water surface . The moon looked deeply content at the lotus with an exhausted smile and sank back lost in the clouds.

Buried

And so I sleep
The ground creeping on me
Like a thousand ants
A forsaken carcass
Being swallowed
In a hurry.

Grains of sand filling up
Erasing to find
Nothing more
Than a random mound
In the unmeasurably constant
Stretch of a desert land!

And sitting on that..

A dense cloud of emptiness
Where a thousand faced
particles of dust
Sparkle like stars
Neither moving nor still
But drowning
In sweet suspension!