Poems
THEME/S
My Life
I live not from hour to hour
But in dream on dream of you, Sweet!
The dawn is the ten-petalled flower
Of your holy feet.
I am told that midday appears,
But the perfect globe of noon
Is made from the hemispheres
Of your breasts where shadows swoon.
1 hark to a rumour of even,
But all that I know are your eyes
Drooping their gleams of heaven
To the deep where the child earth lies.
I have heard of an hour that is night;
O how should I tell, when I see
Nothing but your hail's hidden light
Break loose its mystery?
All time is the shine of your shape,
All space is the stretch of your soul;
When the truths of your silence undrape,
The rhythms of Creation roll!
17.5.48
Page 244
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Amal Kiran
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