‘I wonder how these stones reached here’,
said the boy to his friend
as they passed me by.

The world is still full of wonders...

Of the breath that sinks to the soles
In a mere look,
Of the moment when body finally opens
Its secret to the body,
Of one who is so breakingly
One’s self,
Of images that play their games
Behind closed lids,
Of that, that lies
On the far edge of tonight.

With a tink
Another red bead falls in the bowl;
Life spreads its palm
And tells that, that was not known.

Kings and queens, who disrobe into
Tin men and rag dolls.
Specks of light that stay within
Form a tiny star at the center.

Till one final bead,
That shall fall
And not be heard.