Flying To Fiji Poem by Anuraag Sharma

I had a dream.
It is no longer there.
A step down the aircraft
strangled it at once.
I need no Rudaalis to lament the loss—but
will dance like the protagonist in
Premchand's ‘Kafan'.
The end of a dream's journey
is the beginning of the Lasya of Shiva.
The Ramneek Tapoo becomes a theatron—the calm
sea lulls my dream to eternal sleep.
The night-washed greenery is a perfect shroud.
But beauty lies in fine imperfections,
lies in Fiji.
The earth is round—not
spatially only but in time too.
The journey in geography is a
tossing travel in time.
It is home coming from home
to a home away from home.
It is a now which is then-ed,
a then which is now-ed.
Dear Herbert! Where are you?
Kaliya dances as an Uddhava has
greetings from Gokul and a gift of
a cosmic ball of benedictions
from the Blue Lord with a flute.
Be here and here only bound
Centrifugal-ing ripples of love
love and love around.