The Dome of Life

The houses
that stood there yesterday
Capped with golden hay
And the grapevines
that welcomed us like hosts

Have become primordial images
Carved by the sailors of imagination
In the archetypal domes of life –
Their traces have been removed
From earth, our forefathers inherited.

Tonight,
I muster courage,
And walk through the door
Of the dome of life –

On a beautifully designed wall,
I find my house, yours next,
Wailing like socially upset brides
Longing for a homecoming;

On the other,
I saw our grapevines
Happily swinging and dancing
On the song of love

Unwilling to come alive
From the blissful hangover.

In the Graveyard of Heaven

It’s eight past seven,
And I am home,
Stitching my muse
On a crimson chinar leaf
I have recently rescued
From the famished Dal;

On the canvas of the leaf,
I drew a corpse
Exactly the way I had it found
Lying on a blood-stained bed of turf
Like a bride
Waiting
For the arms of love

And be buried
In the graveyard of heaven.