Author: Elancharan இளஞ்சேரன்

herons rise on wings of smoke as rivers split into fire and silence

hollowed but hallowed where’s the sense in that

eavesdropping on the conversation between crashing waves and the barnacled face of the coast

luminous frogs leap through the bog devouring any evidence of light

the tantric fire does not burn it simply engulfs and drowns you in ecstasy

along the pale sea icebergs drift like forgotten temples

all is art until shadows and tendrils take over warm limbs

a decree of cosmic proportion tumbles from the lonely night sky

dive through mirrors of salt each crystal births a new image of our frail flesh