CHIRANTAN 9 - SILVER MISTS

It was that age when evening silver mists

Spread their alluring perfume

Captivated my senses

Drawing faces in the empty valleys

Always shrouded in mystery

A vision of dreams answered

Just almost within my reach

Yet as my outstretched arms

Lengthened across the lake

Faded away into a teasing book

Quickly shutting its flapping leaves

And I

Lost again

Not knowing which page

Held the key to my lock

Of the caged soul that fluttered

Waiting for its soiree

To dance into midnight surrender

A whirlwind of untouched passions

Melting into a pair of nothingness’s

The perfect one

It is now the age

When mists spray the eyes

And slide on sloping deodars

A frosty white glaze

On the leafless tree

Of shattered dreams

Will there ever be a day

When the first moonbeam

Will melt the glaze

And clear the haze

As we stand face to face?

CHIRANTAN 7 - RIVETED

Each night as I sit in the hallway

Of long forgotten dreams

And watch the icicles of desire

Drip onto a lonely roadside

Giving life to those trees

Where your words hang

Words of promises, of dreams

Of shared lives and common themes

And I reach out to hold each one

Gently caress it with closed eyes

And a story springs alive

Of the time and the place

And the love on your face

When you said those words

Caressing words

Embracing words

Tickling words

Hopeful words

Musical words

Unsaid words

And silence between them

Woven into this rich tapestry

Of a life that would be

Now caught in the jagged edges

Of your material aspirations

And lost sensitivity

See how it flutters in the wind

Frayed edges of bleached dreams

Where did we forget?

The right weft and weave

The giving and the taking

Recognition and respect

The love and the tenderness

The holding tight and letting go

Now I stand there haunted

Chained by your woven words

Bound by aborted dreams

At the crossroads of time

Waiting for your return

In that deserted street

Of a life that isn’t,

Riveted!