Orange flood of light

Back in the time of Vishvamitra,
Making love under the sunlight
Your hand on my hand
And an orange flood of light
Warm hues in the sky, earth, and the seas
Yellow mellow scents; orange blossoms and a crowd of marigolds
A joining together type of feeling
A trusting zen-like breathing

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Burning wood

Quiet nights
And the midnight stray dogs that bark
The scent of burning wood
Clay pots and runny rice
On a stove made of fine earth

I’m wearing my favorite cotton dress
And peeking out the open window railings
While the cool breeze touches my face
Unlocking my heart
There’s the lingering scent from grandma’s cooking
And a search for a lover in the dark

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In her palace

She’s in her palace; her head resting on its beautiful marbled floor. She sighs at the way it cools her cheek on such a hot summer’s day. Breeze comes through the large windows and balconies that surround this grand architecture. They tease her wavy hair strands, which in turn tease her face. She’s listless and still, and the only thing constant is her repetitive breathing. Her chest heaves up and down, slowly, bringing life to the stone surroundings. Her long flowy skirt splatters like paint over the beautifully patterned white floor. The atmosphere is impeccable; it’s an intoxicating mixture of floral scents and dampness. Lilies, jasmines, roses, lotuses, and lilacs. She twists and turns, as she slowly rolls to face the high ceiling. There, a green gecko crosses path. She turns to the side, and several ants are marching by. She reaches an arm out and rests her finger on the ground in front of them. They avoid her finger and continue to march around it. This little play makes her smile for a second. Glancing at the ants, their image blur before her eyes as she looks beyond towards the open balcony. There, the bright green banana trees sway under the sunlight. Then beyond them, she stares at the clear blue skies. This is everything she’s ever wanted. This is everything she has. She hears the sound of a sole peacock calling for its lover. It soothes her to sweet sleep.
She wipes away a sweat drop on her forehead as she regains consciousness. Her hairs stick to the side of her cheek when there’s no breeze.
Her heart slowly thuds in somberness. She clenches her long skirt as she twists over the hard marble.
This is everything she’s ever wanted; she reassures her heart,
before it surges into uncertainty once more.

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Vishnu sleeps

Vishnu sleeps
Amid an ocean of glistening gems
His chest heaves up and down, slowly
Like the waves.
The waters are gentle and warm
And they tease his skin sometimes
Making him smile at their playfulness.

Vishnu sleeps, above a bundle of anxious nerves
He sleeps sheltered underneath the umbrella of a cobra head
There’s gentle sounds of bells lulling him from somewhere
There’s a shower of fragrant flowers soothing his senses from the heavens above
There’s a soft glow in the rays from the sun god to the side
There’s a water goddess who he dreams of.

Vishnu sleeps, floating amass a boundless universe
Vishnu sleeps, through creation
Preservation
Destruction.
The rivers overflow, the waterfalls rush down, the mountains crumble,
The volcanoes erupt, the ground rips apart,
And the vegetation freezes.
The world thaws, the butterflies come back,
Children laugh and hold hands
And the elderly wave their goodbyes
Life goes on,
And on
and on
in disappearing circles.

Vishnu sleeps,
His chest heaving up and down, slowly
Cushioned over a bundle of wrecked serpentine nerves
His face glowing
His lips, smiling
Vishnu sleeps consciously
amid an open warm ocean
Deep
Inside the heart.

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