All I know

It matters not at which spring you fill your cup;
All I know is that my love for you,
is like the ecstatic merging of the river and the sea.

It matters not whose flowers scent yur breath;
All I know is that when I think of you,
Love unfolds like a flower and enfolds me in its fragrance.

It matters now which sand fills the hourglass of your time;
All I know is that when I look into your eyes,
time stands still and I gaze into eternity.

It matters not which wind blows through the crevices of your heart;
All I know is that when I kiss your forehead,
it is the softest, tenderest thing I have ever done.

It matters not where you spend your days and nights;
All I know is that when you take me in your arms,
I have reached a place called home.

Surrender

Drop you fears, your turmoil
into the lake of my heart,
let's sit on the shore together
and watch the waves grow still.

Drop your silences gently
into the open spaces of my heart,
let them dance and twirl
into melody ineffable.

Drop your dreams softly
into the laughing, liquid void,
let's watch them come true
in starlit splendour.

Drop your joy, your bliss
into the hard shell of my pain,
let's merge and become one
in loving, painful tenderness.

The Dancing Moonlight

I had a dream last night. It is nighttime. I am standing in the balcony of a flat in Bombay. On the first floor. The road below is clearly visible. But strangely the road is flooded with knee-deep water. The night is dark but the moon is full. Pouring moonlight onto everything. The buildings around eerily awash in moonlight and the people standing in the balconies white sprites. On the road below a strange spectacle unfolding. People standing in a line in the moonlit water passing a metal wire gleaming silver in the moonlight. This wire sliding like a snake from end to end and back again. The moving people create ripples and the moonlight dancing on the waves. In the background a flute plays the most enchanting, mesmerizing tune. It is truly magical. The dancing moonlight, the silver wire, the silent people, the lonely flute. I wake up with the flute still hauntingly clear in my memory.