The Business of Light

The moon’s orb waxes and wanes/
On me for days, like a holiday without limits
Prize emotions, going into battle
Mortality, salty and sweet –
–
Sickness melts into health
Abandonment into revelation
My longing for the music of the soul
Cannot be kept down for long, the

Tambourine-sun of my heart/
Is Venus personified, shinning like
Heart break spread upon rosebuds
Of the playing in concert of final compassion
–
I obliterate pain, with eye medicine
My vision exceeds night-fantasy
The ground underfoot becomes
A living hue of the plumb and culprit grace

All-around, that we are sometimes blind to/
I have been lifted by Jupiter, to the highest throne
The dawn where love is more, than merely
A person, or a personal salvation
–
I am the criss-cross of splendour, a student
Of wishes that turn to subtle praise
For the exceeding wisdom in existence
Listen, for the light of my owlish grin.

29.4.2013

Modern Gender

You live like a God/
Calm, alone, the modern associate
You tailored your life
Script and sacrifice, determined
Like a titan, in a life made of nets
–
To catch the monuments falling
The lovers, departing
You herd destiny with no promises
You believe in yourself, at least
You honor your victories

And count yourself lucky/
You live like a God
Aloof, eccentric, intrinsic
Lord prayer didn’t need help
To raise pennies from the marketplace
–
You wrap your silence in
Executable strengths of machinery
You live like a God
Aren’t you tired, of vigilance
Against perceived enemies, for which
There exists a rather large mythology.

Migrating Silence

A part of me seeks inner government
To break into a lonely country
Broke from love, not impoverished
But neutral, sexless, just fraternal
To pick Lords of Memory of friendship
Instead of love, blot out telling rain and candles
Settle for sunshine, twenty-four-seven!
To languish in conversations
That never end, like how a line
Of in a Chinese Poem can change my mind
Like a sweetly drunk monk, choose
The simple life, a part of me seeks the
Exile’s perfect letter, language of silence
Where equanimity bathes the mist
Along all shores, triumphant &
Forgetting the Self perfectly.