Shaleen Rakesh

It's time to sing of the mountains where the sun scatters drops of clear water like diamonds on pliant glass the clouds swell in bursts of lilac shadow and row along with the sky in the skylight above a spell is broken and I plummet into myself hiding in a web inside me.

A whole night went down beside you my love with a smile on your face turned to the full moon and the softness of your hands thrust into my silence I have written letters full of love Never have I clung so fast to life.

The poet goes there then returns to the light with his songs of his poetry there remains nothing but the infinite space of mystery.

Our world is not the world of blood or evil magic petty reasons are not our reason we are free to resemble nothing but ourselves to take flight at every corner of our lives we are beyond motion beyond danger beyond time the problem is totally yours if you suffer from the inability to drive us out of your illusions.

If one were to leave the tank for somewhere else they would have to travel through you I can only imagine what it would involve many bad dreams have echoed along your length.

I am not something to be admired I am not the stuff of your dreams I am a place to see things people look at figures, places, themselves they trace on my face their truths, hopes and their disappointments but look right through me what would happen If I threw myself open?

I am the entry the extension, the opening the freedom to come and go what I say of space I say better than others my space is, in fact, unlimited I represent all your possibilities I maintain your dignity equal to itself at certain places at others I hear your quarrels your differences and witness your departures all I can give in your support is space If you want it If you need it as a starting point If not go and find some other place I ask nothing go explore the hollows and solids of volume I'll still be here Waiting.

To listen to you to suggest you another twist to fix you to understand your need for another rush of blood to the head for an occasional gathering to share many strange stories.

Is it your inability to articulate that makes you ramble and talk more than you wish? or is it the result of a deeper anxiety that robs you of honesty? is this really a question? if so, the answer is somewhere to be found.

As I pull into the station I begin to see something perfectly imagined the city and it's passengers I am about to touch and enter the world you believe in I inhabit through you the sum of its perfections now I am perfectly still and I hesitate to leave.

Who on first glance would think you a place of shelter or someone's home you offer open access to everyone inviting everybody you are confident and humble you beckon and with each invitation you laugh out to yourself.

Built not to move built to be regarded built to see built to guide though the ruins of many centuries wash up against your feet no wave has ever succeeded at erosion.

If I'm really that upright why can't I get the voices at the other end out of my mind?

I have closed the pan which I honestly felt too open, too exposed for my taste but I do offer a safe home for a man's right to dream.

You remain nowhere- in here. you are. you are not. you disappear/ it's no trick is that your reality? distance. nil. weight. none. years go by but you remain till the last breath. they blow smoke rings that look like you rising nowhere disappearing finding their way.

You operate by yourself you arrive flourish entering and returning by your-self all the logic you you multiplied by another you divided by another remains you you are here now powerful you are not me I am not you

It seems the trees and the fruits keep a secret, and by touching them and eating them they reveal stories and anecdotes things we never knew things you never shared, like how you feel about yourself.

You must be something of the nature of God your daunting height your power without hands, or grip generosity without a purpose beauty that time won't destroy.

Before you started cutting paper into kites I remember you often returning to your notes your homage to the future shaking in the wind.

It's somewhat easy to enter your space and be near you you don't resist you smile and accept it but it's to scratch your surface you remain lost to me I am so near you now almost touching your void.