Now I re-cognize

that day was fated

in the crypts of time

pre-ordained in the visions

of eternity

the aeons floating on

in Honsulu, London

as you and I

so closeby yet so far away.

The late morning was light:

Beyond the road

the field of yellow flowers

then the infinite sky.

The sky was always there

“SkyWay” was where we first

chanced on our long way.

In my labyrinth memorabilia

that morning lies engraved

with an aimless purity ~

Your impeccable home

was as much mine :

From the great cycles

circularly we return ~

The furniture the familiar symmetries

created clean spaces

for our vast journey:

the wordless word was

thick in the circulating air ~

It was as if we knew each other for ever

I wonder now why I didn’t tell you

you were beautiful

which of course you were.

You were in the kitchen

I engulfed the door

your hand was all flour

the air had your faint smell ~  

You said you never have breakfast,

but will have it that day with me ~

You spoke sonorously

over the fried eggs and toast~

british accent but the tones were

from the land of the five rivers

The moments were whole perfect

I watched and listened

I had nothing more to offer ~  

Then your personal album

with the nostalgic burden

of iridiscent private memories

that constitute you.

When I saw your photograph

in an Odissi garment

sure enough I said,

“You must continue to dance”.

The parting moments

lie blurred into oblivion:

Really there was no need

for me to leave ~ Yet,

overwhelmed with joy, I left.

But my precious memory

is your backyard~

the fierce sunlight, on

the many fallen apples,

red, yellow, greenish red,

scattered around the lone tree.

I asked you why you never

picked them : You said

nobody wanted them ~

I re-cognize today

long long ago

I had played Adam

to your Eve ~

Then the apples

in our garden

were not forbidden.

circa1990

Note~ “SkyWay” is a Hotel in Honsulu, London. “The land of five rivers”, is literally Punjab

in India. The five rivers being Ravi, Jhelum, Sutlej, Chenab and Beaz which confluent to

become the river Sindhu(Indus). This poem is about a possible beautiful relationship that

fatally faded into evanescence. The poem was written ten years after the event.