Twilight

It was twilight, the very twilight that
painters, poets, writers and musicians
never ceased praising through their way of art.
In that very twilight hour
As he lifted me with his arms,
I shrank like a cocoon
clinging on to his bare chest.

As he kissed my forehead with his cold lips,
I went blank like the dark night
Pressing my lips to his soft skin.

I was blank, indeed
Like a larvae inside the shell
in its own world.

In that very twilight hour
As he explored my mounts and shallows
With his thin aimless fingers,
I shivered like a banyan leaf
Burning down my worries beneath me.

As he licked my valley
I arched up my soul like a rainbow
Giving myself to him.

I was shivering, indeed
Like the banyan leaf with
the tunes of the autumn wind.

In that very twilight hour
As he took me over utterly
I slid down like the rainwater
through the pores deep down the earth.


I broke open the shell
and flew like a butterfly
To a new world
with my rainbow wings.

I fell from the top
Still trembling like the banyan leaf
Slowly falling down
with my freedom of thoughts.

In that very twilight hour
As he lay holding me in his arms
I found refuge under his sweating body.
As he smiled at me in peace
I felt the peace inside myself.

I was at refuge, indeed
from all the worries of my life.

It was twilight, the very twilight that
painters, poets, writers and musicians
never ceased praising through their way of art.