Cosmic dust- an ekphrasis

Touch thisDark melancholy,With those paleFingertips.Whisper the wordsOf silence,With yourSanguine ruby lips. Bring colourTo the darkness,Greens, yellows,Reds and strands.Touch this voidOf vacuum,With yourGentle, healing hands. And in your eyesHold the stars,But, there’s no needTo rehearse.Let’s fall and riseLike cosmic dust,Cause we’re the universe.

The weavers

Spools of threads hanging low, scattered away like anxious crows. Vivid and different away from all ties, seemingly unique but a garden variety for eyes. But there are eyes that see what no others can view, and they are with everyone but found by such few. The eyes that saw these threads away, just gaped…

Those jade eyes…

It was dark: the night that day, and it rained hard: a storm at bay. Sleeplessly I stirred and sat up in fright, a pair of jade stared at me it was this very night. Two round jade stones green as a pea, and they just stared just stared at me! The stones advanced revealing…

A dead rabbit!

The land etched with greenery and its earth studded with roots, bright and orange ones like Mr. Larry’s boots. Boots that he wears everyday and brings them home soiled, the very ones that let him check all that he has toiled. He doesn’t earn a lot you see for boots are all he owns, and…

How it all came to life…

A blue porcelain set, a chopstick alone, sit still in the glass case, one’s lined with gold, one’s stringed to solitude, as both wear a worn- out face. I look at both, and the things that I own, and so many are just a question, do I own them? are they mine? I have so…