Love You Are A Flesh Clad Tabernacle Traveller Poem by Lovita Morang

Love you are a flesh clad tabernacle: traveller,
Mystery's master lyrist temple-prayer;

I don't know you;
Yet I am with you,
like lover's fire-mortar on dew;
Like a thirsty river's raging fire.

What is the name of the city you live?
And the air you breathe; and nectarine heart-sweetening deep you sip.

I ceased to hold, in this unaccustomed flesh and bone, harsh and rude realities.

Why not dwell on this winsome revelations,
My burnt body balmed in rhetorics of courtesies.

Toothed in summons of things that pass by,
Each wait becomes a parting pathways.

Yet, I in destined delights of your existence, in mysterious calmness of fleeting moment of alien times;

I sight your images in the sea of silences,
Your gloomy heart's song barter for a day's debt to live on....

Eternity has become ocean's abyss
In fathomless cries of untranslatable strangeness.
Still sweet sighs forerun in abundance.

Love, you are a traveller in the manuscript of quivering hands of a poet seated in empty omnibus.

Like a mighty sword you cut across,
To reach me strife-torn victorious.

-Lovita J R Morang
Location: Candolim Beach, Goa

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