It’s time to rest, little heart, little heart

It’s time to slumber, little birdie.

Rest your tired feet

On my soothing shoulder

Tarry awhile and meet

All the gentle souls of this old house.

What makes you wary, little heart?

What keeps you awake, little birdie?

Is it the crumbling walls of this house?

Or is it the sense of a deep darkness within unroused?

Do not worry, dear little heart!

Do not worry, dear little birdie!

The darkness hurts only those

Who have malicious intent in their hearts

Not those with pure hearts to keep their part.

Now fly away, little heart, little heart

Go away, little birdie

The storm is past, little heart, little heart

The weight is lost, little birdie.

It’s time to rest, little heart, little heart

It’s time to slumber, little birdie.

The Beast In Me…


The beast in me
Wakes each monsoon,
Rises to the surface,
Wants to be free.
Clamors in my soul,
It paws my skin,
Ripping it to pieces,
Stalks out and roars.
Round the year,
I rein it in,
But with the first shower,
It claims me.
Bestial nature,
Reduced to primitive promptings,
The veneer of civilization,
The conditioning runs thin.
Rages with the storms,
Dances naked in the torrents,
Dazzles like the lightening,
Elemental it is.
The beast in me,
Hungers and lusts,
A raw, earthy mating,
Craves physical touch.
The beast in me,
One with the universe,
Transcends the material barrier,
Beyond the veil it goes.
Dripping in sensuality,
Marked with wonder,
Unravelling mysteries,
Of the dark, human nature.
And when the rains are done,
It goes back to slumber,
Its experiences and discoveries,
Soaked in cells and soul.
Every monsoon,
An incremental awakening,
On the physical and spiritual planes,
The gift of the beast in me!