As I watch Tiyaasha sleep

Through a crack in the window,

an old window, a decrepit and dirty window,

a hazy beam of sunlight peeps in cautiously.

It keeps a slow and steady time

devoid of mystery and rhyme

and flows languidly between forgotten particles of dust

suspended in the rust of a million random Brownian acrobatics.

Ships, like lost little ships, rudderless on an angry ocean

the dust is moves through time

devoid of mystery and rhyme,

and nothing changes in the dark room.

Croon, hear the silence croon,

in this lost and forgotten room.

Where sunlight peeps in cautiously

to consume all that has ever been

and all that will ever remain.

An insane freedom fills out the dark and heavy air.

Floating without a care for history or time,

devoid of any mystery or rhyme,

Tiyaasha lies stretched supinely on a bed

that rocks in the darkness like a lost little ship.

In an age before creation, did the Gods too feel as restless

as I do now, watching Tiyaasha sleep in a world devoid of time,

full of mystery and rhyme,

and envelop in her slow and steady breathing

the very secret of the universe unfolding

and holding its scattered thoughts for a moment

before all is lost to the swirling dust in the beam of sunlight.

*

1: 18 AM

19^th March, 2010