I pick up the stones in their mute testimony
to the silence of my soul speaking a fire
where the rise of the mountain falls to the shore
and fire and air become one like a Universe-beatified vista of encumbering beauty(!),
sensed in the edifice of my dreams, where the pebbles
are brick-layered into an impressive castle by the Masonic wind
And my percipient mind fashions the alleyways as well
in a colloquialism of time becoming an awareness
to feature as the capstone of my imagined reality!
I am burning in a fever of reckonings
rimming the fortress walls with an impatient and expectant breath
And I look through the vacant causeways of the night
And they remind me there is no vacancy in these timeless beds
full of quarks and bosons and iotas ionising the aeons from where they began
into my receptive palms, bathing my skin, my arms, my limbs
in limericks of tales of unspoken histories; their historicity
like an awakening in lengthy messages from the first starlight
that preceded everything in its primordiality
This is a priceless photon that the soul holds dear
This is an engine train that never left its tracks
determined to have a tryst with the one who awaited it
I am counting my dreams, in the pages of an unwritten tome
that was only given to self-inspirational parochial soliloquy
but is as exemplary as an epitome of idealised universalised virtue
You know my shadows can be burnt in those initial diminutive star beams
that emanated within the original bindu or sesame seed!
You know memories can be roused in this descending calm and yet, explosive conflagration
And I am lying down in vapours that keep me dreaming and rising
into the passion of the night that is no longer dark
but filled with the illuminating spirits of my ancestors!
