Seeing Eye to Eye
Never mind that the canvas is small
And the painter must put his all
If he wants to depict the landscape
In its beauty full of mystique
With his brush and palette of shades.
Never mind that the painter has a vision
That he wants to foster in his art
Which his brush follows in compliance
To give the landscape his authority.
He eases his hands to give it a gaze.
Never mind that the canvas is small.
The painter made full use.
His landscapes and colour choices
And keen insights into abstraction
Have lent his art a sense of the occult.
Never mind that the painter messed it all,
His art was a work monumental.
He saw in it connections I failed to see.
Awakened, I moored to the uncharted
To warm to his revamps and resurrections.
Be the Hunted
Whenever I look into your eyes
I can see a surf of waves rising
And breaking against my heart
In a backdrop of music that sends
Wistful ripples surging in the plains
Of my mind, alert to your godly gifts.
If it was not for your tender eyes
Life for me on these earthly lanes
Would be in vain.
Reflecting the love I have for you,
My thoughts touch in me a chord:
Nothing I do should bring you pain.
You are a mine of endless passion
Ever on the verge of exploding in laughter
Or going on a hike six kilometers long,
Always with a smile in your eyes
And with a luster that only the sun
Knows to give to the sky at dawn.
How to hunt the hunted, with her eyes
Trusting, pierced deeply into mine? I sigh.
My soul dreads the naiveté in her gaze
And murmurs, why not be the hunted?
I abandon myself to her haunting eyes
And feel in tune with my reborn ecstasy.
A Bright Burning Flame
There is a murmur in the wind.
The night is on alert to flee.
Daybreak is dawning
As shades of soft white mix
To make the darkness light.
Trees are barely visible
In the silence of the dawn.
Birds awakened chirp aloud.
Golden hues paint the sky
To give the dawn a bridal glow.
Hung high are the curtains
Of the dawn, which blow open
On landscapes of hopes anew,
But dawn’s span is short.
A torrent of light let loose
Is set to conquer the world
As dawn awaits in reverence
To breathe in the freshness
Of its first droplet.
Draped in the first rays of light,
Dawn bows out of the stage.
Remembered are the flames
That have burnt the brightest
And not the longest.
The Unperturbed Pine Trees
Never mind that the trees are lush green,
Do not forget — this is a spring scene.
A traveller reposes beneath the leaves,
Do not forget — this is summertime.
Autumn laughs and other trees are bare,
Winter smiles and the snowflakes fall,
The fields are prey to a carpet of snow.
Never mind the transparency of silence,
Birds are visible only by their absence.
Avalanches love hiding their pathway
As death finds comfort under the snow.
The sun’s rays play on the frozen lake.
The waterfall lies still in a meditative state.
The pine trees bask in the frozen glow.
Never mind that the sun’s rays will take on force,
And life will emerge again from the silence.
Streams and waterfalls will flow once more,
And spring will sprout leaves on other trees.
Birds will stop by in their migration spree.
Trees will once again be lush green.
The pine trees take all this in their stride.
Destiny
The path of life is long and forlorn,
The distance between the two ends
Of the thread is light-years apart.
Shadowing it at every step is destiny
Which accompanies life’s prattle
At its every twist, turn, and grind,
And under the veil of immunity
Guides it along the trail.
With ease not in its intention
Destiny breathes into life's mind
And has its stamp on every decision
That life upfront must take
At its every crossroad or bend.
As the maker of paupers and kings,
Mellow-eyed, it eyes both
With pride and sans prejudice,
As both are its child. Then, O Life, enlighten
Me. Why is the haughty privileged
And why is the underprivileged in shame
During this journey whose beginning
And end are the same?
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