With the breeze of a sudden night
Comes the news of your arrival.
As I dive into the sea of slumber
You wake up,
Fusing the conscious with the unconscious.
The night goes silent, draping a blanket of darkness.
You radiate
In your own light, intrinsic glory--
A star.
At dawn, I wake up,
My feet touch the ground
There too, I see you—
In soft, full smile.
Footloose, the night’s star and the earth’s dust
Embrace, sway each other.
I bow down, pick you up,
To give meaning to my worship.
Note: Every autumn, as Durga Puja, the biggest festival of Bengalis, approaches, a certain delicate flower blooms quietly in the night, spreading its soft fragrance all over. Since my childhood, this tropical bloom has awed me with its magical essence. In Bengali, we call the flower Shiuli or Shefali.
Disclaimer: I am not a poet and don't claim this is poetry. It's just a spontaneous expression, triggered by memory.
Comes the news of your arrival.
As I dive into the sea of slumber
You wake up,
Fusing the conscious with the unconscious.
The night goes silent, draping a blanket of darkness.
You radiate
In your own light, intrinsic glory--
A star.
At dawn, I wake up,
My feet touch the ground
There too, I see you—
In soft, full smile.
Footloose, the night’s star and the earth’s dust
Embrace, sway each other.
I bow down, pick you up,
To give meaning to my worship.
Note: Every autumn, as Durga Puja, the biggest festival of Bengalis, approaches, a certain delicate flower blooms quietly in the night, spreading its soft fragrance all over. Since my childhood, this tropical bloom has awed me with its magical essence. In Bengali, we call the flower Shiuli or Shefali.
Disclaimer: I am not a poet and don't claim this is poetry. It's just a spontaneous expression, triggered by memory.
