I gather some fallen flowers,
Spread a milieu from death,
Of life and thereafter,
Where miseries thrive not –
A vision wished to be acknowledged.
A little errand of mindfulness;
Grass seemed pleased.
Pleased, only to my eyes.
Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar
Weighed lives.
A few cycles of sun and moon.
Wind tickled nerves
And the dance,
A few tourists acknowledged;
Till the leaf sailed along
And fell on the way
That the cyclists chose;
Wind brushed it aside
While the Yarra river celebrated life.
Copyright (c) 2016 Deeya Nayar-Nambiar
On an expectant full-moon night
The breezy evening light
Leaving inhibitions on the shore
I dig my feet into the sand
Writing the words of hope in anticipation;
The distant roar of the tides
I hear with a shudder but
The waves come calmly –
Collective messenger in manifestation;
Gathering words, rinsing feet and
Depositing strange travellers
Living and dead to hope in anticipation;
The spreads of blue with no distinct line
Past, present and future a transcendental straight line
I devour spontaneity
Layers of washed sand visuals
The mystic sea, resplendent.
In search of spirituality
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