Sunset melts into moments dark and delicious
Surrounded by utterly sinful gonadal giggles
It is like a walk on the periphery of temples
With all the Gods locked inside their cages
The wind loves to softly caress, and the darkness
Envelops forming an impenetrable cordon
Happy pauses and joyous exclamations are the only grammar
In sight until the bodies roll apart
Into the waiting arms of consciousness and
To the absurdity of open-eyed conversations
The moment of ecstasy is still there, waiting
For another embrace and a mindless, breathless smooch
Another drive into this sublimation reserve
Where insights are the only tigers that prowl
Though only luck or patience coaxes them out
Of the dense undergrowth where they remain hiding
Every time I am there I go up and down the contours
Admiring, subliminally soliciting, and waiting
For the moment when I rise to drown
In this immersive experience, this journey.
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An idea to a writer is more than a wish to write
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Arvind Passey
04 April 2016
