Beloveds and Strangers

If we share the same color

in this worldly rainbow

swirling about in our

little fishbowl

precisely like those

two lost souls,

we will meet

as it's meant to be.

When we do,

certainly, we would

spend many an hour,

just talking;

midnights with owls

and mornings with souls,

we'll share

our stories of old!

But if our colors don't cross; different hues, different waves, 

Wouldn't we still sit together, on a park bench or ground,

and savor those nodes of silence?

-Uththara-

Artwork: https://sophiaspockets.com/2013/10/04/mosaic/

A Train Ride of The Mind

The day I found the perfect potion
for the favorite part of my mind to open,
I was lying down on a hardwood floor
with the music of the purest form;

That yellow warmth of the candle-flame
shedding the light to form the shade,
a scented breeze with the hint of sage,
citrus, lavender, an emerald haze.

The beating heart set the brewing pace,
a reminder of time, in a timeless space,
guiding the mind to leave the maze,
to move in one with the cosmic dance.

My mind, comfortably numb to the lull
unlocked those gates, once guarded well,
to a stunning, staggering world in a skull
or truly, to 'the universe in a nutshell.'

Still on the floor, with a smile on my face
I caught the best seat on the thinking-train
There was company on this pristine terrain
to chat along the way to sanity and the sane.
Left at the station of my hardwood floor
I was still tapped into the cosmic flow
as the strangest power gushing in my bones
penned in precision my secret code.

-Uththara-

Artwork: https://delacanvas.com/products/copy-of-we-are

Iftah Ya Simsim! (Open Sesame!)

A shrine made with things I gathered:
stones, bones, shells, and feathers.

Boughs, leaves, and petals withered

and the painted face of the sacred mother,

Scented candles that burn on bright

Tapestry of Van Gogh's Starry Night

A forest sky lit up with fairy lights

guided me to have my first ever sight

"Scattered are the healers, known-unknown

yet linked by a frequency, a wave of thought.

Their duties divided into dusk and dawn,"

whispered my mind with a wisdom of its own.

I wait, like Nandi, waiting for Shiva, his master,

the protector of the Word and the cosmic dancer,

gazing at the flow now slower, now faster

amazed at life and grateful for my master.

- Uththara-

Artwork: https://www.surrealismart.net/product/the-last-island-oil-painting