A Nocturnal Muse
-Mridara

The moon, a boat plying illuminated crystals.
The sultry breeze blows softly, grudging to lift even the tiniest of withered leaves.
The stars seems like glowing white fire flies.
Jealous clouds creep over the happy twinkling stars stifling the light.
The moon too weak to bath the earth with her light;
Like a brazen bride she succumbs to darkness.
Black curtains of nightly fragrance conceals their wild passion.
They grow wild as their bodies entwine in deep ecstasy.
Springs of life forms awake to play their nightly instruments to match their rhythm.
Consumed entirely by desire they turn raw.
At last coming to rest in an encompassing sigh.

- 30/ 4 / 2006