Priceless

There were times when I have struggled a balance between my dreams of material wealth and spiritual happiness. Not that there were many possessions, a bare room that looked more like a scholar's study than a girl's bedroom but there was always a need to keep it spick and span.

There was this craving for possessions later always caused by an awareness of a lack looking at the wealthy and the rich. Then now, when it is possible to have possessions and objects that one wants, this strange heart wants nothing but to be left at peace, to know the wisdom of simplicity and of keeping away from needless clutter.

It wants not to learn the price of new desirables but to keep against its heart the priceless value of timeworn possessions, worn-out words, tired dreams and old loves of words, coffee, wine, music and  you.

At home

We were at home, you in your sky blue shirt,
With chocolate stains from my hungry fingers,
Your cheeks smudged with my new lipstick,
When the story ended rather abruptly for us.

Instead what I saw in the place was a durbar
Among countless dancers and a huge crowd
Who were screaming praises of our names
Your eyes on me, your lovely demure queen. 

We climbed the ancient steps to the palace
Dressed in all regalia, very sure of each other;
Then this fragment from the last day I saw you,
Two broken pieces were put together for a while

A glimpse of an old home, a place of no return
With a strange wonder, I feel like being at home.