Now the dawn commences
with Dr Laxmi Subramaniam
and a bleak light slowly gaining
between the ever more tangible buildings
of the town

Now, the morning slowly matures
into an October forenoon
with Raga Sarasvatipriya dancing
on the violin of Dr Subramaniam

Now, dawn and morning and forenoon
prepare
for a day of not yet, of maybe, of perhaps
and a brewing indeed,
with a mug of strong black
and several undeniables,
among which
the blind eye of mercy
and the deaf ear of prayer
stand at the fore

Raga Sarasvatipriya winds
like an Indian cobra
between the tall speakers
at the bottom of my bed

The room remains at room temperature,
my body taking in the situation,
all the years
granting a kind of wilderness
I didn't foresee,
into which I pull
as many abilities as I can sustain

Dr Subramaniam steers his violin
into Raga Vasantapriya
as I watch my thought ponder
my corporeal spacetimeness
and the absolute stillness
through all this motion;
all this soaring lightness
in heavy matter

Dr Subramaniam
opens his third spaciousness
as morning leans
into forenoon,
Raga Sivapriya a light mist
out across the seashore

I've come this far
to tie some threads,
I can feel it,
and loosen others;
the collecting
imperceptibly transforming
into the dispersing;

the continent of arrival
and the ocean of departure,
sand between my toes,
as our lives overlap