The Doors


the winds smell dense

brimming yet containing fullness waves
inside ancient walls of limitless abstractions
in chants, echoing
strange syllables
a mantra
seeps in the doors in pure disposition
past the fragile clinging sensations flying off as pulverizations
catches something natively familiar
      the underlying scribble-scripts
       within dusty cycle of streamless screams
in the waiting core vacuum
for this aligning spectacle

conceptional rhythm
fills in embryonic chimes
encircles atmosphere
lights up a mellowing night
darkness pitch amplifies in mystical midnight blues
“your deepening eyepools”
takes me in a rivetting revelation
in a flash of quick-spiral blink
    your cool southern shore messengers
     sculling swift as primal winks
     from tribally drumming heartland
     had blown as pulsating agents of change
     over sensed stagnating heatvibes
     of my sweltering northern inlands

   I know not now
   the past pangs of incompleteness
   of being an unbelonging half-breed
   when your language
   imbibes in
   to reside as mother-tongue
   ageless fluency



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