Birthdays

Though often drowned in the cacophony of celebration,
birthday, unlike others, is the most personal occasion.
It is about only you, and for you;
no partnership, or companionship should be required;
though an invisible shoulder or silent affectionate embrace is most welcome.

It is yearly reminder set to tell you that you have existed,
and still do.

I believe, that whole act of celebrating birthday
doesn't reflect well on the remainder of the days
of the year gone by, or to follow.
In some way 364 days should be of festivities,
and birthday should be a day of reckoning.

A day of contemplation and solitude,
where you kiss the tender moments
of the year gone by on forehead
for having made that visit to your life.

On this day, in the noise of celebration, I often hear the eco of void, filling the uncelebrated lost time.

-Pulastya

Love Making

My whole body is numb, but
something, inside me, silently resonates, in a divine rhythm.
I am sure it is my soul, dancing with joy.
If you listen closely,
it is like inside of earth still humming,
long after an earthquake.

I can't feel myself anymore,
as if all my senses have crashed,
with an overload of joy,
what remains of me is just a sensation,
not even a thought,
but only a sensation, of joy, floating in the air-
how different soul could be, from this sensation of joy!

In your embrace, my love!
having merged my self in you physically,
my soul gets released from the shackles of my body,
and becomes one with the completeness
of endless universe.
But, what is strange is that,
it is the experience of my body that frees my soul-the path to freedom passes through the shackle itself! Always.

-Pulastya

Beauty In Thoughts

Your beauty can be conceived
only in the womb of my thoughts,
it gestates there, away from reality of death and decay,
just an essence,
pure- as only a figment of imagination can be.

Your beauty, a fragrance in mind
that strays freely like a child
and livens up all my thoughts with its kisses,
is born of a longing;
a longing woven during intimate conversations
of my soul and mind, about beauty.

I often retreat into my solitude
chanting words and phrases,
in labour of delivering you in to the world
through my poetry,
exactly as you are in my head: an amorphous sensation,
for those who have an eye for beauty in any thing.

So that, even in real world,
your beauty not bound by shape and form,
will be free from death and decay,
to last for ever; and
with it a part of me: my name.

-Pulastya