out of mystery

meadows of darkness
and the leaning music
of separate souls..
waiting to mingle
and compose
the masterpiece..
sorrows of the past
reminding
every now and then
the mistakes out of
curiosity that
made thoughts of fear
and future..
when something is created
isn't it to be celebrated?
but why is it that
when something is created
of nowhere and
the eyes of minute questioning
hurry to kill..
and when
the divinity wants
to show its face
to the longing mass..
who knows
where the elixir is and
how to open the
container?
and the creator
hides himself
not able to face
the ongoing revolution and
the inner irritation
may be..
every birth
is beautiful
whether its of
purity or
temptation..
all that is..
is out of mystery..
isn't it?

poet and the tree..

hey waving tree
don't be so conceited
you are not the
supreme lord
of happiness and life..
remember
you owe the
mighty rain
and the pitiable sun
even if you don't care
its too much
that you create shadows of doubt
people resting
beneath you
not just rest but
leave their legacy
of happiness and
sorrows of longevity..
and the mother of
your seed..
mother of your hidden mystery..
you think
you can forget all these?
never forget that
all the winds that
crossed you
embraced you and
taught you love...
and how come
you forget the
nonsenses of this
poet under you?
look
whatever happened..
let them go away
with your dry leaves..
let this poet's words
become true..
since he's been praising
you..
and you alone...
as the gift of
the mother earth..
and what to say
about this poet's conceit..
probably you may
come and write poem
of his destiny...

here i am

here i am..
nude..
seeking shelter..
longing for words..
thirsty and exhausted..
hoping..
the sun of
never ending light
the dawn of
never ending delight
the pyre of
never ending misery
the mixture of
joy and pain
here i am..
and
when i open up
all my shadows
leave me..
just like that..
when i open up
the heat is
unbearable that
even my
love dislikes me..
here i am..
midst cloudy questions
and
drizzling answers...
here i am..
as nude as the
sighing rain...

காத்திருக்கிறேன் . . .

இரவுகள் தொடர்ந்து கொண்டே இருக்கின்றன...
இனியும் விடியுமா என்ற கேள்வியும்
என்னுள் இருந்துகொண்டே இருக்கிறது...
வார்த்தைகள் விடுமுறை எடுத்து சென்றுவிட்டன..
என் வாசகன் மட்டும் எனக்காக
ஏங்கித் தவித்திருக்கிறான்...
அடுத்த கவிதையின் பிறப்பு
விடியலைக் கூட்டி வருமா?
விடை தேடித் தனித்திருக்கிறேன்...