Wednesday, October 18, 2006

for a sister...

i see a
gentle wind,

its not a cloud,
it neither has force.

it just sweeps through faces,
gently, soothing the stupid senses,
bored 'th outward objects of beauty.

in effect,
and in a sense,
it stirs the soul,

in all of us,
tired and desparate.

this gentle wind
named `venil' in tamil
happens to be my mom's name.

my so called sister's name is shyama
may be i should accept her as she is

do winds have colours and names?

is shyama, space?
only krishna knows

theres no wind
up above the earth

there's silence,
there's stillness,
there lie simple souls.

of yours and mine
minus the timid mind

beyond the window,
the wind flows gently.

i feel love
all around me
and within self

a rare calm,
resonates round,

soul sleeps,
with it shyama.

me says sorry,
feelin sleepy.

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Stories From The Soul Town

There lies a magical land. Surrounded by the green ghats to the west, gurgling great rivers on the east, the valley with the very blue sky. A temple town of the tamils. Sitting on the dancing rock on the highland overlooking the valley, the writer procreates the lives of the people of this lesser known south west. Full of strange yet simple souls.