Rolling Down.

First attempt on Poetry.

Fell through pores and destined to run,
landed on a forest and I rolled in joy,
that went past as time ran elusive and,
reached a steep rumpled ridge and temple.

It pulls me down to the ravines of lushness,
‘It’ – they called gravity – I submitted the ‘I’,
It assured my run to find roots of unknown – me,
It ensued my path through bridge and caves.

Lost in the rugged path – friends in woe,
and mend with ‘I – the restless sole’,
adrift in me – dreams of hordes – to run to know,
through bushes that tasted the tears of ground.

Beats of drum that frissons my form,
through path that bobbed like vessel in tide,
Deeper the ‘I’ went warmer I felt Him,
and made my love with the Lord of the love.

Hanging at the tip of that warm sagging log,
awaiting the imminent fall towards sublimity,
I sharpen my ears to the words of wisdom
– that sprout in Him;
”Every Man has a right to a Saturday night bath”.

and I fall – off words !

Picture Courtesy - Whitehotmagazine.com

Picture Courtesy – Whitehotmagazine.com

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