A magician



Morning starts,
With a Turkish coffee
And a raisin cookie,
In a corner of the secret garden.

In daylight,
gentle colors envelop
My heart,
silence plays the strings.
Pen writes on
the whiteness of destiny,
Free of time,
Heart hovers each moment
To keep me in love.

Nothing seems real
Without my beholding,
My perception ripen things,
While truth shorten
the distance
between my dreams.

On the threshold of darkness,
the most hunted mystery
comes toward me,
to meet me,
to become me.

Light is the magician,
who grasps and shapes
Each moment,
Like a salt water to nectar,
Like a raisin cookie to love.

No yearning to look beyond,
I wind through time.
In me,
God is ripening.

My share of daylight,
Always comes.
in a cookie
or a kiss from
beloved’s lips.
All ripened things
Become real.
Am I real?

I wind through time,
Soundless,
Into light’s magic,
Barely feel myself,
Just an evensong,
A lover of earth.
A bare ground
Lying beneath
the boundless sky,
full of seeds,
ripened things.

I am
Just a cookie,
A delight
Comes from a dream,
Yet,
I am real.

Eat me well,
wind through time,
Be real,
be a magician.

© Serena Devi, July 2011

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