Ode to Skin

You, the fabric that covers my bones
In all its tanned brown glory
You, the canvas of my emotion
And also its shelter.
For you are the thin line, the boundary, the border
Separating, protecting
This convoluted rabbit hole of an inner world 
From the outer one.

You are the curtain, the doorway, the membrane
The universe must sear through 
Before it sears me.
With all your intricate layers 
That you cast off and renew
You are the shield
All scars must get through.

You are the vessel, the marionette, the coffin
That encapsulates my soul in its worldly warmth,
Packing supernovas and blackholes and a gooey conscious
Into a five-five body for the cosmos to comprehend,
The sluice gate which confines my cyclones in
And lets my tsunamis slip through in solitude.

You are the companion, the slave, the master
Born with me, liquid milk, you
are what the world touched first. 
You'll live through the hormonal hurricanes of my youth
Till finally the liquid milk unfolds its wrinkled layer
To be blown on and pulled off by the icy warm fingers of death
And dissolved in the flames of earth's remembrance.

You are the yielder, the rebel, the healer,
Submitting your forests to razed
And your land to cut or dug or burnt           you
Endure it all with nary a sob
And yet, you are strong. 
You are strong, not malleable,
For you never give in, my beautifully stubborn rebel you
Come back,                        slowly,                              quietly
Your silent rejuvenation your powerful protest. 

You are the transmitter, the receiver, the storer
That feels the elements and etches them into itself
Memories and secrets only you and I know;
The raindrops that slip under the umbrella,
The wind in my face on a bicycle ride,
The yellow warmth of the winter sunshine,
The soft dewed grass under a tree in my toes.
You            
are what turns moment into memory.

You many not be pretty, or uniform, or perfect
But that is why you are human
You are tangible
And most importantly, 
You
Are mine.

Celestial Reflection

A new day dawning 
A new sunrise 
Is what 'hope' is to you
But dawn is not what I look ahead to. 

For I am the Sky
The ocean that's a different kind of deep 
Arching over this earth
And day is not me.

The Sun illuminates 
This earth. 
The Sun blinds out
My stars. 
The Day blinds out my depths and my shallows,
Clouds over my face and hides
The inky depths of my heart
And paints me a happy blue;
What a nice cultured obedient sky we have here. 

As this blinding light dims out
It takes its pretty blues and yellows with it
And draws back the veil,
And the secret light of the moon
Lovingly caresses my whole being--
The corset was too tight here, my dear
Let me breathe back the life into you. 

The secret light of the moon illuminates 
Me. 

Me, the blue-black darkness that is my soul,
The happy pinpricks of memories that shine 
through this dense fabric,
The tumultous sea of my thought
That sometimes bursts through in the day itself
Blotting out even the Sun
As the clouds rush in to contain the damage.

Me, the blank canvas, the stage backdrop
Where all of life plays out
" 'Twas a good show, Mr Shakespeare, Sir"
Many thanks, thy kinds words delight my heart
Let's dismantle the stage now. 

Vectors

Cycling in the rain today

Instead of a thought experiment, I tried a Physics one.

For a change, it worked-

If I went a certain speed, the rain didn’t drench me.

 

They talk about the beauty of Physics

But you see, the rain is not beautiful

Because of physics-

Vector additions and relative velocities

Could never capture it,

A single arrow and a Greek letter

Just aren’t enough;

Because even though they’re three-dimensional,

The rain isn’t.

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Mahogany-Brown

Mahogany-brown, heaven-sent,

My love

A sublime work of art

Perfect, so perfect.

 

Cloaked in black, like the night

My love, mahogany-brown

Every curve fitting in mine

The piece which completes my puzzle.

 

We don’t need violins and pianos,

My love, mahogany-brown

Symphonies play in our embraces,

And in the brushes of our fingertips.

 

Hollow inside but full, so full,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Richness flows into my soul,

Cathartic, lifting me from the world.

 

And even when my fingers are callused,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Smoothness will never roughen

Because immense purity is untouchable.

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