On my Birthday

The day has come to a reckoning,

the day of the forlorn awakening,

The day has come again this year as the fall

witness the foilage clamouring for your footsteps,

under which the leaves crunch to dust,

like me waiting in seclusion for the meeting,

again the day would pass under the bridge of time,

hardly whispering a second but a song of minutes,

Only if you could sing in the melodious voice of yours,

but the music is dead under the weight of its own symphony,

Another day would vanish but before I cut the cake,

and think about why this day came to my fate,

rendezvous with the earth!



The lines on the skies

Love is the toughest battle on the soil of love mongers,

who calibrate with the pulse of heart a needle,

to silence the morning’s ad infinitum absurdum,

the cosmos silence the beat of the pale stars,

to give birth to the new white stars washed in,

the unison of thurst the bodies entwined in love-making,

as if the whole world has come under the sieve of the noon

Art of love

A bird drenched in rain asks

In this rain I have received the nature all  soaking

Like a breath caught in the throat

Oh God why did you make the heart?

And kept my soul in a shorter frame of art

Then the rain stopped and the sun shone its light

And gave the bird a shy flame but the thunder did not stop

And the voice of the bird became the sound of a flute


Does Taj Mahal too love?

Does Taj Mahal too love?

Dead wind that is blowing

Shroudless it says

In loneliness you breathe

two whiffs of air

The night would not go disgraced


The last lamp on the lampshade

Glowing on the street far away

Underneath which I contemplate

Does Taj Mahal too love?

Like lovers who never set

On the shores of chartered seas

Could they resolve the act of God

That there is love unseen

in shadow of light

That I call Godly sight

But at Taj Mahal

The lovers lie in nearness

In the shroudless night

Unfazed by the Godly might

Does Taj Mahal too love the frost it bites?


To lit the orbs of his lover

The Emperor built Taj Mahal

And in this separation of death

Is there a cup of mirth?

To celebrate the unison of love

In the robes of dissolved flesh

That lies buried in the earth

Does the Taj Mahal too love?


Yes it does! the love of flesh when becomes the earth

the earth too takes the lovers around the universe

like two specks on the pale blue planet’s hearth,

when seen far away from distant zenith

the lovers are forever  in rest  in the journey of the earth