Brinjal Seeds!

Earthenware lamp wick dances in soothing breeze,

Tree leaves rustle with footsteps,

A soft cloudy mist has covered all stars,

Moon is nowhere to be seen,

The smell of burning brinjal seeds,

Mixes with Narayana chant in the loudspeaker,

Towers are still waters tilling soil of infinity,

Praana is the oil vibrating like seasonal crop,

Ropes with tin cans move in and out of wells,

Wells of nectar,

The silence talks to noise,

Taking turns hitherto untaken,

I know not the name of the land where I live.

You don’t do anything in love,

We are,

Are knots,

Empty fullness,

This moment.


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