A poem by Prem Geet.
Afternoon, deep quiet,
the sun, sheer pleasure.
Land made of crystals,
Sky made of heart.
Time was a white horse
standing still in the gold grass
Time was a mango
in the hands of a farmer
Time was a stranger,
a listener with passion,
peeling away everything
she did not need.
Time brought her people,
ideas, and new colors,
colors she needed but
could not have imagined.
Time was a killer
whispering at midnight,
“You are never naked. You are always alone.”
Time held her,
embraced her, said
drop it, drop everything.
Time organized her judgments
like worn toys on a shelf.
Time changed
everything to its opposite
and back again, for better.
Evening, deep quiet,
the moon, white pleasure.
Dreams full of emeralds,
A bed full of stars.
Time was a lover, whispering at midnight:
“You were always naked. You were never alone.”
Prem Geet
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