dr.k g balakrishnan

                            The feeble waves caressing    
                             My chinking tinkling zeal,
                             The pre mute notes
                             Post mute too,
                             Hand- loomed in silky
                             The cream-hued passion!

                             The touch gentle, the pat
                             Effervescent horripilate,
                             The vibratory beating,
                             The transcendental ecstasy!

                             The reverberation
                             Of the tick of the Big Ben
                             Eternal, the pulse of the Samashti,
                             The Time at times the Drummer,
                             At times the Violinist, but,
                             The tune, tone, an’ the verse   
                             Often gets repeated to be
                             The n-dimensional Space!

                              I could throng my pursuit
                             With the resonance of the stream,
                             The jangling of the breezing
                             Breathe of yours, that too
                             Is non stop till the sunset!

                             Surely, the ring might
                             Come to an end, where as
                              It would come to being
                             As the hum of the beetle,
                             The song of the cuckoo,
                             An’ the warmth of the garnishing
                             Crimson dawn!
                                 Samashti=The Aggregate.

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