Friday, October 22, 2010

The Evening Breeze

The Evening Breeze
Often , I lie solus,
On white sand-banks
Of the large pond
In my ancestral land,
When the evening breeze
Gently touches the divinity,
Hidden somewhere in mortal body:
I feel I cannot normally feel.

Oh! I wish the evening breeze,
Too heavenly and wondrous,
Brought out my grandmother
Sleeping just under,
With whom I used to enjoy the breeze,
On these sands white,
In green days, later became defoliate!
Indeed , it can if it willed.

The evening breeze brings
Smell of soap suds,
Which forms on mind-board
The damsel in the nude;
Soon, the breeze brings
Holiest odour
Of frankincense and incense smoulder:
So in the breeze I sin  and purge.

Often, I lay tired on sands;
All sweat drops dried in the evening breeze;
All my spirit revived;
And fresh morrow waited.
Evening chants of diverse creeds:
All in breeze united.
Seraphic breeze pats on every head,
Still nobody sees it.


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