Engraved Whispers

As old and magnificent as a banyan tree,
I sat by the unearthed curved roots,
Eastern celestial hand holding its leaves,
While the other is wrapped around its bark,
A dance ceremony to hear its whispers,
Symbiotically shared with soothing birdsongs,
Angelic beings roaming to find harmony,
However, a green leaf will soon depart,
And along with it will the hanging lanterns fade,
Except, if you truly saw the heart of the tree,
And the whispers it wrote on the walls of
Imperial palaces to root their thrones,
Then you will realise the hope in igniting
Your heart to beat melodiously once more,
Because there is no reason to pause a life,
Like birds, constantly ascending the heavens,
And so, I must relay its whispers to another,
But within it you shall always be engraved.

Split in Two

I
Outstretching a hand to a falling leaf,
A farewell ritual dancing with the breeze,
Purifying the land for its soft touches,
Commemorating our distant smiles,
And further, further it continues to leave,
So, I chose to quickly pick it up and hold it,
Sending all my warmth to its inner core,
Tending to its many complex arid cracks,
Some were so deep and beyond repair,
And even as close as I can be I am still –
Still unsure of my ability to intervene,
All I can do is allow Time to heal itself.

II
And whilst I dream about a surreal era,
Where cracks flawlessly diffuse forever,
Where I await mine to be softly tended,
Or at least to be acknowledged; at least,
Another decides to ride the whispers
Of a warm wind guiding a silent nomad,
Which sounds so elegantly majestic,
And yet, it leaves behind a heavy mirage,
Silence becomes my natural remedy,
Still unsure of my ability to intervene,
All I can do is allow Time to heal itself.

When It Rained

Today, the rain drenched its own face
With tears as it touched my lips,
Commemorating a day where it left
Its own purified heavenly home,
And here I am still covering my face,
Hiding from its painful hushing drums,
A musical to the dancing hearts of nature,
Trees swinging to rescue every raindrop,
To revitalise its soul with earthly minerals,
Ah would you look at the new leaves,
Emerging and growing as the Sun glorifies
Its beauty across the endless horizon,
Now, it ascends back to its heavenly home.

A Free Soul

Speak like the trees – voiceless,
Move like the wind – swiftness,
Think like this ancient crust of dust,
Collect rare beings whom you trust,
Listen like the stars – far away,
Love like the birds – a new day,
Become a young free soul and flow
Like this beautiful angelic doe,
Dance like the leaves – falling,
Stand like the mountains – rising,
Ever since you have lived this life,
Ever since you were the wildlife.

The Secret Garden

This is a story about our encounter:
A secret bestowed upon a garden
By the keepers of a magical town,
Centred within Gaelic wilderness,
Frivolous birds briskly fly their wings
Into the flowers of a peaceful summer,
We become trees: young and wise,
Organic leaves delineating our soul,
Signs of nature pulling us here,
A nest for storytellers, a sanctuary so
Sacred till the last sip of a teapot,
Brewed within earthly volcanic
Waters to be consumed by many
Celestial souls of serene beings,
The story tells of an enigmatic
Inscription well-preserved within
Its silent walls and cushioned floors,
Within its dim lights and fragrant
Candles, within the cheerful friends
And the veiled whispering couples,
The story discloses to the passers-by
The will to dance a tribal ritual
Energised by the rare melodic aether,
Strings of a golden harp revealing
The vivid colours of this garden,
The story now flicks to a different
Chapter as the door cracks open
And the chimes of our steps reach
This realm’s magnificent keepers,
The same ones who forged this
Hideout for us to share something,
So, relax, take a sip, and enter the story.

Adventures of a Kid

Listen you boy, don’t you wonder around!
Her chair rocked forwards and backwards,
And I winked at her little fat Miss Orange,
A naughty blind little cat that I used to mop
The floor and sometimes the windows, too,
But all of this is gone for I will embark on a
Journey where I will find a form of magic,
Something to bring my mom back to me,
I once read in a dusty book about a forest
That is not far from here, it must be here –
Oh you don’t know how much I miss her,
She was taken away when I was just a kid,
They sent her to marry some son of royal
Blood, and I was to live under the ceiling
Of my mentally demented wicked aunt,
No cousins, no husband, no pets but a cat,
And a bit of dust on the table and on the
Wooden floor, and on the windows and
On the chairs, on the boots, on the ceiling,
On the beds and all around this old house,
Clean the dust! Clean the dust! All I do is
Clean the dust, and so I will embark on a
Journey where I will find a form of magic,
The book mentioned a stone or two that
Can grant any person their wish, a bird or
Two with an orange feather that can bring
Two persons back together, and a leaf or
Two that will forever send a person away,
And I want all three of them: a stone, a
Feather, and a leaf, to give my mother
The stone, to bring me and her together,
And keep my revolting aunt forever away.

Morning Dew

Ladies and gentlemen:
To-day’s morning dew
Ventured out of my flowers
To send fresh smiles
In a colourful bouquet,
And my leaves (in trusting
The natural flows of gusts of love)
Have prayed for Eastern winds –
The warmth of many summers –
To embrace this friendship; bound westward,
Soaring over earthly matter,
And among heavenly matter,
And higher and higher,
Tune in and bemuse,
Muse on the music box,
Tuned in to her flowers,
And enters – the smiles of
To-day’s morning dew.