In that secret- sacred, dark-green grove….
Where love heals with wild turmeric they grow,
And blooms uninterrupted as bright ixora in camp,
Where flying golden snakes guard lone stone lamp,
In company of silent, translucent, emerald ponds,
The majestic shades of entwined peepal and palms.
Some wild jasmines of thoughts, ornate subtly fringes of,
Sugar dusted sands on nostalgic yard, Gleams in slivers,
Of gold, by filtered afternoon sun, lacing intricate patterns,
Of vines, that binds tight this microcosm of tranquil light.
The breathing air so pure and calm, instills the meditative
On its own, Here time stands still, the background score
Set by discreet squirrels and koels abound, Once in a while
A mongoose prances by, A civet resting on palmtops before
His nocturnal dance, A private jungle of contented thoughts.
A green womb of nature nurturing in water, earth and air,
Raw vibrations of life and soul, Here I learn to be myself.
Yet imbibing all goodness, healing me above and below,
In matter and soul, in heart and mind, in action or thought.
When they think I’m ready to go, the golden Snake God,
Lifts his approving hood and slithers down the burrow,
Asking me to return whenever I feel void, drained or in
Doubt, to come and confront, debate and defeat all chains
That hold back, to wipe the cobwebs gently, just enough…
For me to enter, rest for a while, and leave it, just as it was.
All rights reserved as on 22/2/2015