Our love is very deep.
we have broken the chains of time to climb every mountain of defeat.
Our love is a bridge between two heavens.

Our love is a lamp afloat upon the raging waves of the sea.


Our love is a kiss given by the mouth of pain
Our love is a zephyr from lemon blossomed orchards.

Our love is a secret stuck in the throats of our hearts.


Our love , if you look at it
you can see it,
on the branches of the skies
in bending blossoms
for you to fill your baskets.

These murmurs, only your heart can hear.

Where ever you maybe,
whosoever you claim to be
i draw from your lips
the depths of each other.
in an adequate breath, i draw from your soul
the firmaments of love.
i draw from your chants
its secret longings.
Such is this mingling
yours and mine.

What so ever, and to whomsoever you maybe.
i can understand your quietness.
i can see when the night is at its darkest
how beautiful it makes you.

No scars to blemish
the becoming of love.

Today, the sunrise from my heart.

Yesterday,
the sun rose from the sky.

today,
it rises from my heart.

Yesterday,
the books i read
was drenched
with many beautiful worlds, ideas , and experiences.

today,
i read the book of silence.
And the beauty, is in its emptiness.

today,
i look into the sky i don't see the same space
as i look at the world i don't see the same things
as i look at you the sweetness is uncontainable.

Kaveri, is a river - more than an ocean.

Love,
Into the hollows of your palms
i place
an ocean.
Now you know why i call you, the sky.

Your poems are perfumed with silence.

Gently , my love
fill me with your poems.

The smell of your poems
are perfumed with silence.

That which was still,
begins its dance again.
And that which has danced,
clings and cuddles lovingly in your poems.

They tug me
to the sweetness
that only your world can give.

Whatever it touches-it makes it alive.

There is a light that million suns cannot give
it comes and sits in the silence of meditation.
Where ever it cast its eyes-everything blossoms.
It has no eyes ,yet it sees everything.
it has no feet ,yet it moves everywhere.

what you and me call light- is only its shadow.

Questions to river Kaveri,and to planet Rhayne.

Do you know a cobler
who could make shoes for the sky?

Do you have a hammer made of silence
to nail the noise in my thoughts?

Where could i find that umbrella for your eyes
when sadness begins to rain?

what garden could you wet with your teardrops?
and what flowers grow out of them?

Who could take me to the school
where i could learn to be a shepherd to a flock of clouds?

From where shall the downpours come to drench the aridness of my heart?

Who would let me sleep in the bed of her eyelids
while the dimlit lanterns plants the seeds of dream?

What sun did you eat for breakfast to have a smile like that?

What telescopes have you in your eyes when the night sky sneezes shooting stars?

Who beats the drums in your heart for blood corpuscles to bolero down the arteries to the veins?

Moksha is a groupie's invention.

Searching for it because
you have'nt got it.
What is got, is to be lost again.
Not getting what you want
you go there;
not getting what you want there
you come here;
from books to temples;
from the couch to shamans.

Where do you want to go from here.
Here,
is everywhere.

one step outside
or two steps inside.
But inside there's no one,
nothing.
Carrying makes you someone
collecting gives you something.

Here is
nothing.
Nothing to collect.
no relationships,
no virtues.

Here you're
no one, no king,
no god.
so the only thing you can be
is yourself.
so face it.

what do the fallen flowers tell you.

Stay motionless.
so
thoughts does'nt give inertia.

Therefore;
no matter how i fall
i
in my falling
remain.

No desire
to become.

i always knew
i
am
Free.

your beauty has so much darkness.

Your beauty has so much darkness
so you can make the sun look like a liar.
Lies may be the clothes you 'd like to believe
you are wearing.
but,
your nakedness still comes hugging.

i have tried
to touch the cries of your skin
that wears masks to scream and bite.

Far from what you seem to show.
soft and smooth they are
in
their waiting to be touched.

The source

Step into this mind.

cross their fields and rivers.
where words
are sprouting flowers of silences
nourished by sunrises of love.

step into the caves of thought
let them become still in your meditation.

sit by the vallies and hill
where no tomb can bury your freedom.

is'nt every death
denuding you more and more
freeing from the particles of your thinking.
For, where you have been walking the more naked you got to be.

in the begining
the stripping is painful
the psychic skin has got its nerve endings
deeply embeded in the past
creating new skins in time.

Is dying an event ,
Or is it a way of being?


Step into this soul.
but,How to come in?
there is no way of knowing .
there's no map.
except the one that you'll be forging.

Thus
your knowing me
will be
as you trace it.

If, as a wall you chose to come
you'll coming in -will confront you.
If, as a river you chose to come
how beautiful that flow will be.

How have you choosen to step in?

The blood in your heart
is made of love and beauty.
which makes everything so easy
even the hardest pathways will surrender.
So
your holding on to me does'nt make my weight heavier.


Heaven- there is'nt.

where we meet
won't the heavenliest of heaven's be unfolding.?

we are one anothers mirror.
what mingles in you, mingles in me.
what melts in you melts in me.
what carries you from here to there,
those same movements
will be here again
to shift us as the sands on dunes.

in your breathing is my breath.
in your loving is my love.
in you living is my life .
in your dying is my death.

Say it then,
to the tree in you
whisper it, to its wind.
Sing it to the birds.
Kiss it to the ground.
Fill it with the universe that has been filling you all this time.
Futile it is to kill -what cannot die.
Futile it is to detest- what hatred cannot touch.
Futile it is to exhaust before that which the labour cannot give.

Step in where minds have vanished
Stay sunk in the namelessness of these silence.

step into this heart
it will give you love.

Who gave you your name, Nishagandhi ??

i push my boat into your nightfulness.
into
the seafull nights in your face.

shimmering stars and milkyways.
shows me
your immensities
that
the daylight hides.

Wrap me in your darkness
feel comfortable with your freedom.

Of the lantern
Eat the crust of light with your nightful mouth
without regrets
or hopes for the skin
of your soul
denying, its duskiness .

i allow myself to be lost in you
for
here
i'm no more a stranger.

i push my boat
into your darkness
where
nightful waters murmur
what the daylight could'nt discover.



NB: Nishagandhi is a flower that bloom at night,once a year..mostly, after the hot breathless south indian summer.

it emanates a fragrance that makes the moon talk to the lovers.
And the poets get drunk.
i' d say , so aphrodisiacally inspirational.

i have encountered the Nishagandhi nights, just twice in my life in india,

i felt that i could write the part-II of the Kamasutra.
Never was a flower , both soul and body intoxicating.

It is also known as the " Brahma- kamala..." the lotus of Brahma"
Actually , i suppose that the poem above has nothing to do with Nishagandhi.

To her who brings me the ocean.

As each day closes
i come alone to an inner land of quietness
and watch the brimming of love.

But,
You and i sitting togather
has priveleges,
the ocean
becomes
expandingly beautiful.

One day
a feather
said to me

i will
be
a bird
again.


One day
a rock
said to me.

they say
that i have no heart
but
what do you see?
when the morning dew is wet upon me?
Can you hear me cry.

Jasmines blooms beneath your steps
so why should i not
kiss
your feet.

Honey pours out from your lips
so why should i not
lick it.

The immensity of the world is on your skin
so why should i not
carefully
behold it.

From the sun temples you unfold
and i drown in the light of your love.

in Tantra with your body ,in yoga with your soul.

A monk i am
and so what if i am.
A monk i'm not
and so what if i m not.

A lover i am
and so what if i am.
A lover i 'm not
so what if i'm not.

to the sacredness goes my hum
the great sacredness in life.
This monk sings in the temple of his heart.
Not in Mecca, not at jerusalem, not at kailash
none of these places can hold it.
only the opens spaces of the sky can.

To the beloved goes my kisses and carresses
great is the sweetness in kisses
such is the lover's kisses to his beloved.
there is more than breath, more than love.
on the mouth are the density of the heavens

I become a monk in the temple of your beauty.
And a lover in the softness of your arms.

I don't look for god anywhere.
but god comes looking for me through these prayerful silences.
My song goes after what the ears cannot hear.
i look to see what the eyes cannot show.
i have heard
and i have seen.

When love writes roses grow

did i ever tell you
In my pen
these mystic roses
grow.

if only your heart
could
be its garden.

as i look at you the moon comes out

what is it that flows
in there
that
the moon comes out of night's river.

Out of your singing the endless awakes.

Your singing
comes through the mouth of pain
like
a tempest
in
a conch.

You who go there
in the depth of nowhere
where
miles and miles of silence wait

To teach you
about this unbothered state
called love.

You levitate
as the sunrise of your ocean.
out of you
the endless awakens.
And
a glow
that noone else can give you.

a poem for lamenters

Yesterday a man said to a woman,

the waves of your love rushes
towards the shores of my life
with their endless messages
but, there they die.
it's five years since i have turned deaf.


Today a woman said to a man,

look how they bring you home ,my love
wrapped in white
laden amidst flowers .
I'm twenty
and already a widow.


In between yesterday and today,
in the soul's dark night i heard this guy say,

you whom i met by the seashore
how little i could forsee
the reasons for which i fill my glass with a drink
less bitter than my feelings.
i must shut my doors and be alone
for my weary heart cannot be comforted.


While silently moved the clouds.

i feel like seeing your face

i feel like seeing your face.

if like two lovers
we were to meet

Longing to fill into each other
that which has been deprived.

or like two seas, troubled by our own storms
or like two bridges
that was planned but never built.

one step closer

Slow soft thoughts
moving like a cloud
all waiting to meet you on a sky
beholding the present.

Aware of the latent
enchantements
which bids me to one step closer
to look into your depths.

the burning sensations,
searching for new
susceptibilities in me.

who else can be more fragile
than i am
its trembling provokes
tenderness
a magic rhapsody is hiding
everywhere, in everything
in the wind, becoming
its softness
in your eyes,becoming its glow
on the lips of silence, becoming
its understanding

A poem to a face in the street

She said to me,
"my heart is a graveyard
it lives amidst the silences
Flowers bloom for those who cannot see this feast of colors."

"i'm here,
the wind is cold,
outside me is so much of emptyness.

the whole world is just one intense teardrop in my eye

where are you?"

The door was open.
but, she did'nt know how to come in.

Heaven is just under the skin

Touching
when words donot say enough.

coming in contact with the spaces
called the skin
under which
each one carries invisibles scars and wounds.

Touching to remind the body
who really lives in there

Touching in you
the drop of water
in which your own ocean
is awaiting to be freed.

What is it to touch, or to allow to be touched
if not releasing
through those pent up rivers of hugs,
of carresses and laughter
the pathways of your soul.

Have you been ever touched by the invisible
as much as the visible?
Is the sky God's skin

Have you known touch as a prayer,
as the most profound hum you have ever heard??

Touching hands, touching silence
touching to listen to your soul.

i can take it

One's own wounds comes wounding
Wondering why it should be there.
Wondering how not to show the rebelling.
Staying social.

yet

Behind gentle masks
sting and anger
pollutes .

or else why should "hello's"
come so biting?
Scream it out
the sky can take it!

A poem to love

Who was it who came to sing
who was it who came in the fading lights of the evening
who was it who set fireflies in my gardens
who was it whose footfalls fell like music within my heart
who was it who leaves this beautiful imprint in my consciousness
who wakens when temple bells ring
who was it who kept calling my name
who was it who kept smiling when i closed my eyes in prayer
You who are nameless, faceless, formless rising within me
to whom alone i bow.
In you alone i exist , in you alone i perpetuate
No fear i have, no want i have
In your formlessness is my uninterrupted flowings
i come not to you to beg, to stand above or beneath
i come to stand to behold your smile as you behold mine
and the world becomes beautiful by itself.

No other sunrises for me
but that which comes to illuminate my soul
And it is your light i see in everything , every single day
Nothing to accomplish, for every act is only accomplishment
and every silent instant a beautiful poem.

You are not an answer to any quest
no quest i have, no answers i seek
in the basking of light
i remain tremendously alive
tremendously still
This body moves, while the core is imbeded in your silence.

After being here, there's no where to go
no temples of wisdom to seek
no kingdom, or greatness to conquer
for the universe of all universes are available, here- where i am
But it is not for this i am
but to sail upon that which has no purpose
kissing the mouth of life and passing on.
Listening to the babbles of a brook and pass on.
beholding the wounds of the wounded and passing on.
The only miracle i can hope for is
hoping he could see how free he could be
from all his self created agonies.

Today you rise again
so simple is life.

Jasmine buds fall at your feet
yet,
Whose prisoner are you?

An almond tree quietness.

In Almond trees quietness

Moans,
swell in flesh,
Moons,
swollen in poems ?

calls

the Soul crucified to the sky.

to tears itself
away from the celestial ceilings
and fly.

such is
the
calling
of an 'almond tree quietness,'
where
moons swell in poems
moans swell in flesh,

and
the soul flies.

speaking in silence -- loving stillness

Listening to silence -- singing stillness

Watching silence - stillness moving

Have no hang ups with this or that

I asked Shiva " mind if i don't wash in your Ganges?"
i asked Christ "mind if i don't hang arround your cross?"
i asked Allah " mind if i don't bow down towards Mecca?"
i asked Yehowah, " mind if i don't lament and eat quietly my apple?"
i asked Buddha " mind if i don't do this dumb sitting with the Sangha?"

i said to them, "..by the way i'm going to the mountains where you all go to sit along a camp fire..."
And they said to me , " we'll join you there...Do you make some good tea??."


Guru Nanak sang Bob M's ,' Redemption song '

Zarathustra, Lao Tze and Mahavira joined us.
Only Boddhidharma did'nt come . He left a sign board saying " Don't shit on my silence!" turning his head towards the wall for the next nine years.



nb: not offending anyone....i hope!!

To you - who come and go.

Pale stars circling in my chest
tilting your axis in my breast
your beautiful glowing
within my being.

Nebulous breath
slow long deep breaths
in which spring is born
and autumn leaves fall
and the snow lays sofly.

Lay softly
next to me
touching skins.
be fresh , clear and unbothered.
in your sunrises let me awake
in your susets let me die.

Come closer and kiss me
in that one kiss
tell me
everything.