Saturday, November 12, 2005

New Odyssey

The hour when the Saint wanders close
is the Hour when
The solitary Temple
ravaged by the waves of existence
hums to the dance of soulful leaves
that twirl and flicker freely
before resting again - aquivering
like dusky Moghul lovers of a night content

They feel him

The Temple breathes
the mossy walls vibrating along hidden corridors
releasing the smell of antiquity
the taste of felicity
the touch of lost serendipity
and the desire began to bloom discreetly

They hear him

The Temple whispers
long forgotten chants of memories
tempting the forest to writhe around him
the mountains to groan underneath him
the lakes to thicken for him

They taste him

The Temple beckons
desiring not intoxicated prayers
nor zealous incantations that break the silence
nor idols made of succulent dates
nor passionate fire lit to kill the darkness

They see him

Whose dark eyes tell a thousand tales
Callous feel walked on her plains
Heart elated by the longing of immortality
Dried lips pursed tightly

And he swallowed gently
before rising up to the height of the Temple
as the night began
and created a new Odyssey