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Sunday, November 27, 2011


- (an ode to the souls conceived during the earthquake in Japan)

They rock each other, one-on-one
They watch each other,
as their shadows change shape on the wall,
as the candle flickers with every movement
Just one piece away in the puzzle,
as they quake to the rhythm of the Earth below
their forsaken souls entangle themselves
into a myriad different sizes and shapes
of aching muscle, bone and fat
their heart-beats pump in blood,
powered by passion
wating for that final quiver
the one that will make them everlasting...

(Quiver by quiver, we fill the earth
with our presence,
as we pull out stones and melt them
with our imagination -
with each final quiver
a wail is born
that totters to a whine
a lump of perennial desire
that grows, and grows... and grows...
into a bellow, looms a little,
traverses the zodiacs,
and sets into to a feeble whistle
muffled by the waves on the other side
wheezing, trembling, squealing
till you can't hear it anymore
till the bold, furled alpha
disentangles iteself into an omega -
praying, showing us its behind
praying for a successor...)

As they shudder, there is yet another shudder
As the earth climaxes, the world above
trembles, shudders and rebuilds
while the world below recovers
from its own throes of passion
that engulfs theirs, overrides theirs -
their moment of joy buried,
their hopes and dreams - like the concrete
that was once so strong and indomitable,
but now lies in a pile of wreck,
washed away by the waves of a savage sea
that seemed quite distant and meek not so long ago
- one shudder quelled by another

The shadows start jumping around
The walls are no more
As they desperately climb up the walls of ecstacy
just one peek at the other side
just one roll over the edge
and then the fall
it takes with it - all -
the moment of truth
the most ironic conception
the foetus formed at the very hour of doomsday.