Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Dark temple

Lying alone in the dark temple,
my head resting on the Mother's stone lap,
steps down to the green pond,
a central courtyard, dark, peaceful,
haunted by the hopes of hundreds
of years of self-sacrifice and love,
of positing the mundane and the grand questions of existence
of launching queries up to the stars above that circle around the edifice.
The dark gopurams, silently breathe, a quiet contemplation,
the warmth of the stone below, a soft hum.
The wind saunters about, the spirits of priests, and lonely old women
who in life, devoted prayer and food to the gods of the domain,
and spent their moments pondering the afterlife as salvation from the bondage of now.
Rest grandmother, in peace. Your footsteps have led you to the dark door. Savour the fruit,
the broken coconut.

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