The Martyr’s Promise

Believe me, I am innocent,
Under fire of mistaken persecution
Engage my heart not in anger,
But sorrow for the blind,
Agony for confusion,
And longing for the fulfilment
Of our true intentions
Though I stand here in skin
Suffering the wounds of my punishment,
My heart sings to you in joy
And in its vision, I feel comforted
While outside, I must endure
As punishment demands
Standing still upon my own colour,
With limbs torn and flesh burned
A small sacrifice to prove
My resolve to help you
As your beloved Queen and loyal servant

Without a word or complaint
So shall I reign into my grave…

We, two

Two, as we are, collected in embrace
Both bent softly at the knees,
Unstable and leaning,
Asking of the other's strength

Two, as we are, children, hurt and guarded
With spiked hands
One on the throat, one on the mouth
So desperate to be loved on our terms

Each master and servant to heart and head,
To the dirty will of man and the
Perfection of God
Each a saint in hope,
And a felon in practice

So flawed, we, to pretend this trust in such tragic misdirection
The frayed, holey map drawn left-handed in darkness
Laid out is our clumsy path, slow, blurred and useless
Sought on foot, on hand, backwards, sideways, without a plan

In the maunder, we listen to the words manifest
Though our blessed hearts cry...
So ironical.
So dense with weight, and so empty of wisdom
So longing for a sovereign guide

To feign assignment, surely a joke
To elect the other as its leader
To silently empower and not employ
Two stupid to release the door,
Two proud to invite inside

But ha! we, bereft of fallacy
We know it all! to be sure,
Only in translation do we hear
The tabloid nature of our truths,
Our maxims, our sturdy philosophies

These are violent gaps in us,
Where the darkness rules into madness,
Where our blessed hearts are forever crying
As we laugh out loud in celebration
Of how very right we must be!

For what other way can we be but right?
Without "right," we are left naked,
Exposed in our embarrassment
Ashamed that our hands grip no strength,
Disappointed that when the fingers close,
The truth escapes ethereal

And yet we, bereft of humility, fighting for ignorance,
The everlasting, hard fight for the same.

But this is we as we are... as you and me.

I contemplate this wish:
That I may open my arms to you
Even with such mystery out there, and so dark
Is the mystery a terror, should be simply unexplored?

And will your hands open to meet mine?

I cannot will you to join me here,
Deep in the unknown real
I can only offer my hand to hold,
My body to protect, my heart to love
My strength to keep you standing.

So then, may I, too, need to lean?
In my newness, I am unstable in my strength
And so strong, yet bending.

Yet this is the eternal truth ...

Together we are sound in embrace
Both bent softly at the knees,
Imperfect and learning,
For each is the other's strength.

Sleepless Replay in My Soul

Last night I opened up my mind
And saw the photos of long ago.
Memories of love and joy
Mixed with the pain and sorrow
Thumbed through the pages with my mind
Remembering what I wanted to hold
And this is what happens to me
When I replay my life in my soul

Saw again the first day I met you
Saw again the first day I made you cry
Felt the shame for my selfish actions
And saw again the day we said goodbye
I also saw the moments of happiness
Saw the moments worth more than gold
And felt your hand touch my face
In the replay in my soul.

There's a lot to be said that never came out
A lot to be done that wasn't done.
But we still managed to stay together
Still managed to have a lot of fun
I wonder now what happened
What destroyed the relationship so old
And now I see the tears and rain falling
As part of the replay in my soul

It's been ages since I saw you last
Ages since our last good-bye
The memory lasts forever though
And I get to wonder why
I hear you've got a family now
And you're happy you've achieved your goal
Though I said goodbye, and I would never cry
I weep…in the sleepless replay in my soul.

I’ll Wait for You

I’ll sit and wait

As long as I can wait for you

I am content

What more can I do?

Just to hear your voice

Just to see your smile

I will be patient

I will wait a little more while

When your eyes glisten

Your hand raises to wave

I know it is worth it

I am your patient mate

Forever at your command

Happy to entertain

I will wait forever

If your attention I will gain

If only a glance

A soft spoken hello

My patience is rewarded

Before you must go...

Then again I shall wait

As long as my breath betrays me

Until you again return to me

What more can I do?
I’ll wait some more…

Patience

I am waiting
Though not in stillness as I wait
I am hoping
Though not in despair as I hope
I am dreaming
Though not in darkness as I dream
I am longing
Though not in emptiness as I long
I am trying
Though not in futility as I try
I am learning
Though not in ignorance as I learn
I am becoming
Though not in nothing as I become
I am being
While eternity teaches me patience

Wasn’t it while waiting…?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to profoundly admire even the most infinitesimal droplet of rain that cascaded from the sky; eventually absorbing into deep recesses of parched soil?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to notice the streaks of latent agony lingering in the afforested land; where the truant man played the most ruthlessly barbarous devil of his kind?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to untiringly appreciate the most orphaned first rays of the evanescent golden dawn; which filtered a fresh chapter of beginning through cold-bloodedly damned blackness?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to blend even the most intangibly dying ingredient of your blood; with each vivaciously exuberant stripe of the enthralling rainbow in enigmatic sky?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to feast every pore of your miserably emaciated nostrils; on the ecstatically unfettered scent of the freshly rain soaked mud?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to be an integral element of every stillness of the atmosphere; the perpetual silence enshrouding -which unveiled a countless mysteries untold of wandering man?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to conceive a boundless step towards eternal success in your mind; before you could even align the first physical step on veritable soil?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to be tolerant to every fraternity; caste; creed that existed in the human race; inseparably coalesce with all—to spawn into an unassailable singular mass of living kind?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to treat each anecdote of the severest failure with a smile in your stride; and yet optimistically treating each sunset as the messiah to the next sunrise?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to talk to your very own self; miraculously soothe your traumatically frazzled nerves with the unflinchingly fearless baritone that wafted from your throat?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to distinctly distinguish even the tiniest bird in the flapping in blue sky; just by the inimitable ebullience in its wondrous chirp?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to feel the astoundingly unparalleled goodness of creation; even amidst the most bizarrely slipping particles of hapless quick sand?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to make friendships with the most alien; sharing each estrangement of your heart like being the greatest pals of all times?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to grant a philosophical expression to even the most mundane thought of your mind; delve into the more inscrutably tantalizing version of vibrant life?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to capture even the most intricately vacillating shades of mother nature in the whites of your eye; to spurn enamouring poetry in each tear drop of untamed joy that dribbled down your cheeks?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to caress the obscurest contours of your silhouette in the ripples of the placid lake; loving each aspect of your persona so that you could then shower the same bountifully upon countless more of your living kind?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to read someone else’s mind—intransigently concentrating upon each bead of sweat that culminated upon the terse creases of the forehead?

Wasn’t it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt the art of love to its unabashed fullest; stretching the fathomless boundaries of your heart to beyond the definitions of monotonous convention—and into a heaven of impregnable beauty?

Pilgrimage

My soul craves for travel…
A long pilgrimage for peace
Far far beyond the borders;
Into the laps of hills,
Into the womb of forests,
To plunge itself
Into the train of winds,
Hop over caravans of clouds.
To quench its pining thirst
For silence glimmering
Over the plush horizon.

And to escape
Forever
From the grotesque colonies
Of naked emotions
And irksome realities

It dreams
For a journey
To the land…

Where the whole world
Of living beings fly on wings
Scattering sweet syllables in the air;
Where even a leaf before it falls
To the ground
Plays around sailing
In a boat of song.

Where the sun
Comes into the drawing room of the sky,
As hills wake up,
Woods arouse,
To wander about
Like a wistful nomad.
Where rows and rows
Of tall trees
Take out long processions of silences;
Where the marriage of earth and sky
Is solemnized in the cathedral of blue hills;

Where a nameless bird
Merely sitting on the branch
Turns the surroundings into a tune,
Where red-gum and sandalwood trees
Bath in puddles of evening,
And arrive with drops of red flowers
Hanging from tips of leaves,
Where the moon like a child crawls
Over the roof of the house and
Tempts everyone to embrace.

To the valleys of that dream
My soul longs to go
Beyond the reach
Of those haunting naked impassive faces;

This would be my pilgrimage to peace…