I Am An Empty Ocean Within, Without Flute In My Vrindawan Poem by Lovita Morang

Without flute in my Vrindawan

In the musked milieu of my Vrindawan
I find my voids, in the notes of flute's heaven.
Deer's antler I aureate the blotted inks of blood,
Masked I all my matters in light particles,
That percolates down the blind born provinces
of unthoughts in this marvellous harmony
Intoxicated, which scared river flows
through your country without tress
I find my Vrindawan in the handful of verses
In intense well-spring of worshipped mind that rises.
Mesmerized yet, in contented life, liberty loved in poor-house
Sincere man and their enemies and sins of the costly system, in the click of the mouse
I find my Vrindawan in ancient scriptures alive, in fantasy of flute's amazing air.
even in decorated streets of questioning spirit in world fair
Our hearth is large enough, a massive skeletons of envy and with all faults,
Our heart is large enough let it all merge into an ocean of eternal water flow in heaven's vault.
In the parliament house of religions
Mass prayers are Lord's love, I am an empty ocean
Within and without flute in my Vrindawan.
-Lovita J R Morang