An Encounter with Shiva

An Encounter with Shiva

It's just a little quiet,
no, not gloom; this solitude could come any time of the day.
The best time perhaps was the noon
when ravens are peaceful on the trees
and it's a pleasure to hear them sing
freakishly happy with their murky songs
which they polish and transmit, like a military band.
But evening was perhaps better spent alone.
Just a little quiet, not gloom,
just enough silence to pay heed to the wave of panic sweeping over the world of ravens and crows, frantic calls flying over the stretch of the sky,
the primitive darkness settles over all;
distinctions merge in the embrace of night.

The day will end soon and with it the light
will fade into gloom,
a tremor will be heard not far from the heart
in the memory of those I loved and lost.
Unreal shadows ripple in the dark
and riding the wave of the dark
will come the ambient smells
which the cold winds carry.

A tremor stirs and dissolves in the heart.
Never do I want to yield again
to the storms forgotten and rested in the pitch dark
of the vaults of oblivion.

Tricksters of Time, Coyotes hiding
in the dark beaches,
have mercy and leave me alone.
Let me sink slowly
in the ripples, not waves and tides.

The banks are empty where I stand,
without a language to give a touch of warmth .
The loneliness speaks once again,
and this time it laughs a laugh of the wilderness.
The Shiva speaks with his Third Eye open,
a gaze, a ray shooting out of the dark,
and I tremble and shiver under its infinite splendor,
blinding and leading with a hand not gentle,
admonishing  and straightening my bewildered heart.