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(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

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I want to be a unknown brook

I am a meandering stream,
Not perennial, but rain fed,
By the waters of your eyes,
Not your tears.
Your moistness.
I don't want to be The Amazon,
Nor the Mississippi nor the Missouri
Nor the roaring Brahmaputra
Nor the Danube
Nor the Nile
Nor the vast Ganges
Nor the Yangtze Kiang
Nor the Yara
I am happy being an unknown brook,
Feed by the mist of your minds fogs,
Your damp canopies under which rest shaded soggy soils,
Tickled by the ants and termites that roam on your luscious lands,
Your young leaves, and old ones that fall into my silent hush,
Almost halting me, chocking me,
Drowning me, absorbing me,
Back into your moist blooming lush.

Submitted: Thursday, March 21, 2013


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