Take Me There

I never wrote your name on the sand

For you are the sand my feet rests on.

The tide fills around me,

And my toes dig deep into
The soft, wet sand—

My only refuge which can engulf me,

And drown me in its softness—

The quicksand of my love.

I never wanted a home

Or a hearth to warm myself.

A taste of the wilderness,

The rasping forest wind

Beckons me.

I don't want a marriage,

And the rigmarole that comes with it,

The well of certainty,

Nor the mundane pool

Of office-home-sex-food-party,

Withering in a ceaseless cycle of profanity.

Wrinkles on the skin,

Greying hairs, bifocal lenses

And thriving on nostalgia.

I fear to settle down,

It chokes me and I struggle to rise

Beyond the laws, the rights and wrongs,

Beyond the lines drawn,

Beyond everything that confines

Our selves.

I want a taste of that love

That poets yearn for,

That Sufis bask in,

That lightens the soul—

I aspire for that love,

Which breeds ripples

On the incessant river of time,

That soars above to the sun

That made Icarus burn—

That blinding, blazing love.

The wild love that

Rips apart the manacles
Of every limit known.

I seek for transcendence

In love.

In life.

Take me there.