In the heart of winter, I stand,
Surrounded by a landscape of white silence.
The snow blankets the earth,
Each flake a delicate touch,
Soft, yet unyielding in its cold embrace.
The trees are skeletal fingers,
Reaching up to a sky of muted gray,
Their limbs bare, stripped of life,
Yet beautiful in their stark simplicity.
......
{ “Awareness : He began to decipher the instant that he was living, deciphering as he lived it, prophesying himself in the act of deciphering the last page of the parchments, as if he were looking into a speaking mirror.” -
Gabriel Garcia Marques }
_________________
Poetic Mirrors
Who is Shams and who Rumi
is like asking who is fork and who knife when apart they sing not a single song
......
The Sea Inside
When the earth was formless and void,
what did You see?
What shimmered in that hush
before the first word?
What stirred in You,
to utter light
into the silence?
When the Spirit hovered over the waters,
did it tremble?
......
Meditations on Sand
irritating.
between my toes,
you are
the bane of my
existence.
you are
a curse in my sandals.
you itch
......
With my hand to the sun
I count them from left to right
Oh, how they scream
this murder of crows.
They dance and clamor
encouraging the sun to set faster
craving the arrival of shade
to offer rest for their tired talons.
......
A shriveled woman wrapped in sordid clothes
blood reddening the silver of her hair
and beside her a mangy cur in wet filth
licks the rotting gash across its neck
A young man in a suit adjusts his watch
blowing smoke on the no tobacco sign
throws a rupee coin into her bowl
and struts off without looking back
......
{ “Awareness : He began to decipher the instant that he was living, deciphering as he lived it, prophesying himself in the act of deciphering the last page of the parchments, as if he were looking into a speaking mirror.” -
Gabriel Garcia Marques }
_________________
Poetic Mirrors
Who is Shams and who Rumi
is like asking who is fork and who knife when apart they sing not a single song
......
how does the ocean sculpt the sand
like Michelangelo?
a braided rug
hugs my
soul(z)
like–
precision
(breath)
......
The Sea Inside
When the earth was formless and void,
what did You see?
What shimmered in that hush
before the first word?
What stirred in You,
to utter light
into the silence?
When the Spirit hovered over the waters,
did it tremble?
......
Meditations on Sand
irritating.
between my toes,
you are
the bane of my
existence.
you are
a curse in my sandals.
you itch
......