Saturday, June 18, 2011

Knowing her eyes

Search deep, within the cobalt waters
like a diver, hunting down the ruins
of a sunken ship. Did you hit upon the treasure?
- Not yet?

You must toil like a sculptor,
carve out the irises as caverns, erect stalagmites
stalactites or even witch fingers, or some
ancient skeletons of prehistoric men.

You say you can be none of them?
-Did you ever attempt scripting verses,
verses that can procreate the Garden of Eden
with mere words and feelings,

Telling her how scarlet can a sunset be
watching the ruby of her eyes,

Telling her how the blink of one eyelid
sets off ripples in quietude.

You cannot play with words even?
Be yourself then. But scrape off
the dust of years that covers you,
lay bare your soul to her diamond-sharp
gaze,

Tell her how idle hours pass
talking with the moon,

And how the lover in you always
takes a beating,

Yet you must never, my friend,
never let a springtide recede
uneventfully.

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