The wait is long…

It had started in this star-lit valley

Twenty crescent moons ago

When the ghost of the faded moon

Had not yet left the mauve sky.

Through incomprehension

And blankness of burning days

It grew old…

Evening has descended on the leaves

Of gently swaying palm trees

And their grey shadows have grown

Black.

The moon has burst upon the bare sky.

With a vengeance.

The leaves shine

The smell of wet mehendi on beguiled palms

Waft in.

The silken feathers you had clipped

Have grown again…stronger this time.

I want to fly, yet I want you back.

The wait is long…

And the night sky allures me.

I’m on the verge of a take-off

Return soon and fly with me.

The pent-up anger of a burnt out day
Sublimates into a purple haze
Of rain, smoke and dreams.

The earth is angry.
Trampled to dust
By numerous pairs of marching feet
(so alike in their fated doom)
Kicked and mauled
Day after day, night after night.
It is as thirsty as desire.

The red eyed traffic monster stares at
The impotent anger
Of people who lose against time,
Dissolving into eddies and puddles
Of slime and rain.

The earth has licked the rain,
Sucked in its share of
Ambrosia
Before the lesser gods strike again.

Tonight the city shall sleep.
Tonight it might dare to dream
Before the red-eyed monster devours them
at mid-noon...
tomorrow.