Kiss & Go

Chapters read, unread, understood, or missed
Are not stabbed with tags, marks, and dried flowers
Nor are the crease of pages folded to leave a forever longing
I seldom start from where I left and prefer random pages

I do not dig into books to smell their fragrant auras
Nor do I hold the fingers of authors, dragging them to a walk
I wait for mental energies to ignite
Deflecting them into a pillow side wandering by midnight

I don't write my name on books I read
Neither do I protect them with a cover
Nor divide them into library classifications
I embrace only those, free from slavery to protos

I do not quote from them
Nor underline passages I feel are important
or google search for meanings of complications felt, nor research
A vagabond I do not carry our meetings beyond a thought

They often rust, retire and crumble
Or in long drives spill fumes and develop snags
Breaking journeys through seasons and lyre
Books don't belong they kiss & go

Across Time

Innocent little child,
by the road side, 

waiting for
those on their journey to feed the unfelt hunger
united with the impoverished, unbathed-self
lost on a crossing, near a red light

where cars racing in the city 

stopped awhile.
I stopped by and flipped a coin
a pale vessel in little hands rejoiced in a clang
Sound metallic, metal on metal
In the human hands, the sound earlier heard
In the clanking of chains, screeching of swords
and in the clang when the Fe in beings unites.

That was me in a different birth

Separated by Maya in the journey of time

Across a wind screen. 

Momentarily across, Separated, Real.

I swooshed past flipping just a coin
in a pale vessel.
The child-me of ages past, searching food from travelers,
whom he, then, did not know as car drivers
but recognized them as strange sounds
and huge masses with unimaginable figments of power

fuel and perishing speeds
and faces that emerged from behind the screens
faces much of a muchness
faces as I still see, when clouds walk over me
leaving only glimpses of
angelic attendants of the conventions of God
as they lower their windows to drop a coin of sunbeam

or a rain drop.

I am drenched with limitless raindrops, 

caressed by warm sunlight.

 
We always meet ourselves in others,
The angels meet Their Selves in us 

Clouds peep on us as clouds 

Water outside reciprocates the water within 

as we do in fellow-mortals.

Silence ! it should all go unrecognized
and Maya must conceal,  

to keep the journeys alive

Lest this world would come to a halt

in complete unity.

Time would have stopped

had I from my car stepped out to hold the hand of the little child

even if for a while.