Minu's Soul

Why am I in this game?
Which really has no name.
Should i just stop my breath
and say i should just lose my depth.

The small ruby everyone seeks
has fallen out on the road.
Some think it is east of us
others west of us.

Some say "primitive earth rocks"
others, "in the deep waters".
Some say "in the sonorous forest"
others, "on the callous prairie".

I felt it within me
and what it was worth,
and I wrapped it up carefully
in my heart cloth
never to lose again...

As I was walking in the woods
I thought I would plant some trees.

Trees that would give me shade
so I could sleep in peace

As I walked more
I found weeds of lust,
shrubs of greed and
groves of covetous

I wondered if I removed them
would trees manifest on that soil.

Will the vibrations and harmony
reach those who touch them

I walked further and the
wandering wind brushed
against my vestal face

The willow swayed and
gently grazed my lips.

and I stood there
in the rains
so cold
so musky
so colorful
trembling violently . . .
and it was
then --
that I realized
I had
a
warm heart . . .

He sailed across
the ocean
carrying sorrows
on his raft
Carefully packed clothes
soiled with tears

Every night
before he sleeps
He must unbraid
his luggage
so he can find a warm blanket
Only then can he sleep.

The moolight simmers on my soft body
Cooling and soothing my tormented soul
Do I want to be healed
Is what you ask?

I am swayed by the petals of the flowers
you sent me
The aroma enticing the depths of my torso
Did I solicit you for them?

The words you whisper placate my ears
a lullaby no one sang for me
Did I beseech you for these words?

You say you desire to touch me
I say I want to fall in love
you are already captivated

All I want is to dream
to walk across the starry fields
holding my lover's gentle hands . . .

Don't wake me oh sweet one . . .
let me sleep in peace
come into my dream . . .

There was a cute little boy from Bombay
who always knew that he was gay
He was petrified what people would say
so he never had a good lay.

There was a "hijra" named Lulla
He devised a lot of "shor" in the "muhalla"
For he wanted someone to call him "dularaa"
But everyone called him "saala".

Her crimson veil dripped in her first night,
as she wanders in from wounded flight
The candlestick invites the light
as her weary soul releases her fright.

Background and graphics courtesy of: The Silicon Valley Icon Depot.