The lurking emotions in your heart are dark,
like nights, your longings will last their hours,
no fires consume them, no wisdom makes them depart.
You carry within a memory of forests as your habitat,
you know death will reclaim you, end your farce,
The lurking emotions in your heart are dark.
You love faces as if facades are a preserve of art,
no brush strokes can conquer your ideological scars,
no fires consume them, no wisdom makes them depart.
You cultivate mystery, void within your every quark,
and chase the game to splatter blood over holy grass,
The lurking emotions in your heart are dark.
The instinct beckons you to treat the other like a tart,
the jackal ego and owl intellect like travel in luxury cars:
no fires consume them, no wisdom makes them depart.
The philosopher sells bread from rented pushcarts,
but you desire bargain-items, exotica from chor bazaars.
The lurking emotions in your heart are dark,
no fires consume them, no wisdom makes them depart.
Published first in Muse India, 2012
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