Friday, September 11, 2015


It is finally the early hours of September 11
A brilliant sunrise
Sets the pace of the day.
The miracle boat gently anchors on the shore.
Its journey mired in dangers
A thing of the past.
The lass with the golden curls
 Gathers flowers for the offering
And walks towards the shore temple.
Even as the temple bells peal harmoniously.
She returns to the shore
And sits on the wet beach.
Suddenly a flight of pigeons
 Soars into the azure sky
The brilliance of the early morning
 Smiles at the flight of freedom.
The lass’s heart dances with joy
 As the pigeons disappear from sight.
 She finds herself crooning ‘Hotel California’
‘Relax, said the night man
 We are programmed to receive
 You can check out any time you like
 But you can never leave!’
September 11, you are full of enchanting promises
The consciousness today, a lark supreme.
 Now there is only one wish left  to be granted
The desire to hear the sound of her name
 From his honeyed lips.