Baby Brute Poem by Rukesh Yadav

Baby Brute,
Who on the earth,
Does bring red hot knife,
Of confession,
Of revelation,
And stab right into the heart,
That holds love unfathomable,
For the stabber itself,
Right in the moment,
When the to-be-stabbed is,
All but ready to pour its heart,
Into the stabber?
Baby Brute,
Who does all that,
At the rendezvous,
Enveloped with the darkness,
Swaying with grace in,
Bracing breeze,
Overlooking the Buddha's eyes,
Glowing in incandescent yellow,
Where the to-be-stabbed is,
All but ready to engulf,
The stabber,
In its love?
Baby Brute,
Who does that,
In the moment when,
Love itself is ready to,
Flood the moment?
You did.
I froze for a moment,
The heart that holds,
Love for you,
Beat aloud,
And went numb.
Kafka and Dostoevsky were,
Writhing in pain.
Your confession was,
Red hot knife that,
Went into the heart holding,
Love of abyssal depth,
And disappeared for ever,
Leaving a gash that,
Is oozing with,
Unrelenting love.
Such a revelation!
Such an abysmal love!
I had no idea.
Your confession,
Your deeds,
Nothing do matter,
Anything you do,
I will not shatter for,
I am an abyss bearing,
An abysmal love that,
Your brutality can not fill,
But be devoured instead.
Mind you, Baby Brute,
Only an abyss knows to fill,
Another abyss,
Only of the same kind.
So your confession was,
Merely a great revelation,
To me that,
I bear,
The love unfathomable that,
Knows only to love!