Floating

We float
In this darkness
Of glittering stars
Holding hands
Ringa ringa
Round and round
Slow luminary motion
In the void

Our words
Echo in our ears
Soaking the space
In their moist
We hold on tighter
And sounds of assurance
Foster our orbit

We sop up the darkness
Within our eyelids
The hold of warmth
Keeps us wedged
To the being
Of the other

We hold on tight
As we let peace
Seep within our body
We lose our nous
We need to sleep

The Dance

Celestial white figures
Swirl ceaselessly
In cadenced circles
One after another…

Slow and graceful
The feet turn…
Lifting the splendour
On slender toes
Away from earth…

Winds chase the fingers
To touch their delicate tips
Winding themselves clueless
Around the lean curves

The robes whirl in frenzy
Tossing their loose ends
Into a centrifuge
Emitting radiance

I am a stone
In the centre of a running road
Spellbound into a crystal
Dazzled by your light

Mesmerized I watch…
Their glowing figures
In the pristine dance…
On the roof top

I close my eyes
Absorbing my vision
A prolonged wink
And the podium fades away

Molten

She plunges her hand
Into the depths of her bag
Churning a turmoil
Within its belly

She pulls out her hand
With a molten Cadbury
Dairy Milk
The love

A look at it
Soaked in guilt
She drops it back
With a stray tear

Stubborn strains
Of the molten sweet
Stain her fingers
Bonbon brown

A messed hand
And a puzzle her
Both await answers
In stupor

“It was for us”
She apologises
I say in her ear
“We’ll eat your fingers!”

The Shirt

It's hard
for me...
to wash
this shirt
Whose shoulder
was drenched...
In your blazing tears...

The Grip

I stare at the darkness
A cove of trees
A gate wide open
Faint light in the chowkidaar’s cabin
His tobacco splattered song
The rusted gate awaits its closure

The dark gets darker
I keep on staring
Worlds around
Loose themself
To the darkness filling in
Resting on its chest
Wound in its embrace

I stare at the cove
Footsteps emit from its core
Dark and slender
Tracing a path
That halts beside me

A light grip
Sides down my neck
Rests on my chest softly
Darkness gathers in...

Tune of Apocalypse

Sometimes I remember
As I ride the crowded road
The hands which made way
through my aching arms
gripping my shoulders
grabbing my heart
shaping a chin
from my amorphous face
A stream of warm words
on a winter cold ear
"Sing me a song...
And fly along"
I begin with a tune
And an apocalypse
rubs from the right...