Through years of my prime
I walked with a heart
crazy about love.
Standing on top of each morning briefly
stopping by each evening shortly
unmindful, my eyes are chasing,
my eyelids are sweeping with light the sky
My eyes are upon the trees.
For, trees do not live in fragments.
Till they fall, they stand
Even if they try to pluck it,
the flower submits itself onto their hands.
If it happens to prick their heels,
the thorn scorns itself all its life.
I wake up with the news
I feel my body,
As you entered the room
stirring air with suppleness of walk
waking up the stillness with jingles of cymbals
making curtains dance to the sound of bangles
May I splinter away from myself
break into whole units
live in each with perfection!
The road comes from somewhere
And goes straight somewhere else
Caring not the Chautari* that awaits him,
Goes past, leaving her
Let me not so much be lost in involvements
As would make me incapable of
Recognizing the fragrance of the flower
Beaming in my own yard; as would