Stars like clouds are mirrors of one's heart,
And I saw but you in beautiful things
Like goat droppings, waxed chests,
Tanned backs, whip marks
And slightly less beautiful things,
Like clouds, stars,
A flurry of dispersed pollen,
A Brouhaha of falling fall leaves.
Do you remember still,
The beginning?
When our fingers were oil-water
But they stirred the shore sands
And the depressions therein morphed
No lipsticks, threaded eyebrows,
Six packs, breath of Thai dragonfruit,
But we leaned in closer
And paused once for looking back,
If the trees had eyes unabiding
Of love's laws.
The thousand eyes of Varuna
Could not safeguard us
From two blind eyes of men
The outstretched arms of Varuna,
Speak hands for seas
Which engulfs something other than
The sands, the shells and sandcastles
Now you walk yourself
On our calligraphy canvas,
Thanking or questioning the honest trees,
The Arabian Sea that never betrayed us,
Do the sands of our memories chain your feet,
The wind with scent and voices of ours lock you?
I am looking at you-
Your black hair carrying my fingergerms,
Your jacket generous enough for two-
Looking back at me,
With half your face hooded,
Like dolphins sleep with an eye open
You cry.
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~Ajay
21/11/17
