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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Spell

Maybe we’ll always be in this place, where you’ll be the beast and I’ll be…
Forever under this spell
Standing by the cliff and always wanting more
Flying with the dry white dandelions that take me somewhere, higher and higher
In a revolving world inside a glass enclosure
Where I sleep amid flowers
Dreaming as the days go by
Wishing with all my tender heart
For what seems like forever
As the world spins
Under a golden confetti
That rest all around, and over my closed eyes
when the time comes

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Sun friend

Why am I teary unexpectedly? Could it be the love for my grandparents, the loss of a family member, goodbyes of all kind,
The limping dog down the street
Quick infatuations, and false expectations
Sweet motherland, who seeks no expectations
Being sick in this heaven full of empathy
Asking for nothing in return, but only to inhale the scent of mother’s cooking
In the arms of my homeland that rocks me gently while I weep, passing time, watching the streets and making the best out of each hour, as slowly as can be, as if time is way too quick to pass on by, with my friend by my side; the kind sun from dawn till dusk.

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