Now the dawn commences

with Dr Laxmi Subramaniam

and a bleak light slowly gaining

between the ever more tangible buildings

of the town

Now, the morning slowly matures

into an October forenoon

with Raga Sarasvatipriya dancing

on the violin of Dr Subramaniam

Now, dawn and morning and forenoon

prepare

for a day of not yet, of maybe, of perhaps

and a brewing indeed,

with a mug of strong black

and several undeniables,

among which

the blind eye of mercy

and the deaf ear of prayer

stand at the fore

Raga Sarasvatipriya winds

like an Indian cobra

between the tall speakers

at the bottom of my bed

The room remains at room temperature,

my body taking in the situation,

all the years

granting a kind of wilderness

I didn't foresee,

into which I pull

as many abilities as I can sustain

Dr Subramaniam steers his violin

into Raga Vasantapriya

as I watch my thought ponder

my corporeal spacetimeness

and the absolute stillness

through all this motion;

all this soaring lightness

in heavy matter

Dr Subramaniam

opens his third spaciousness

as morning leans

into forenoon,

Raga Sivapriya a light mist

out across the seashore

I've come this far

to tie some threads,

I can feel it,

and loosen others;

the collecting

imperceptibly transforming

into the dispersing;

the continent of arrival

and the ocean of departure,

sand between my toes,

as our lives overlap