Intersecting Paths Poem by indira babbellapati

Counting steps
But how many in that
10X12 space and
How many times?
The steps measured
In certain uncertainity

Yes...one
No...two
Went the count

A pen looted in broad day light

Hearts waiting for a release!
But permenantly sealed...

Yes...no Yes...no!
Left their impressions
On either cheek

Sealed hearts fluttered their wings, in vain
Fell flat in a heap, tired!

The tired hearts in the heap morphed:
Words, scents, sentences...
Pink and perfumed on palms
Stubborn pinkperfume!

The airconditioner hanging on the window
Whirred like a routine fan. Failed to lick the heat

No remote!

Did Cavafy say anything
On intersecting paths?
I've to check...

After an aesthetic dislocation
Words found their way
In the mild chillness of the east balcony
On an early winter morning
Before the break of dawn

Words, do they need light?
They lead light
Or turn light into darkness
The pen too didn't want light

It went on lighing its way
And rested on the 'Three pillars of Zen! '