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The 15th moon shines,

Amidst a maze of light clouds,

And the haze of city lights.

And something clutches my heart,

As I sit and become a part,

Of the cosmological wonders above.

I feel that I am missing somebody,

Or is it just a whim, a fancy,

Or a mocking trick on the mind's tapestry?



I love the mystically romantic aura,

That surrounds me and slowly embraces me,

To be a part of its immemorial entirety.

I sit and look at the smiling moon,

And again something clutches my heart...

This time I am sure,

That I am indeed missing somebody,

Somebody quite extraordinary,

A rare specimen of total womanhood.

And the clutch makes me feel,

That even though we are still,

Separated by thousands and thousands,

Distant miles -- beyond lands, mountains,

Deserts, jungles, oceans, rivers,

And the contours of the human jungle,

Made up of roads, highways and streets,

Alleys, aisles, parks and markets,

Bars, theatres, parks, concert halls,

And looming political bastions,

And mighty, ancient castles --

Remnants and preservers of power --

That no matter what anything,

Or anybody may connive,

We are in sublime contact:

Me and my beloved beyond the seas.



I look again at the creamy moon,

Somewhat fazed,

As I view it through my binoculars,

Marvelling at its obedience,

To God Almighty's command,

To rotate at night as a beacon,

That shines in its cool, ethereal light,

Offering hope to many a traveller,

And a lost adventurer, or a wanderer,

Or a conqueror of high hills -- a mountaineer,

And to boats and ships and even airplanes...

Ah, what a majestic sign of God she is!

The moon, in all its stages.

Brightening the darkness,

On the lands, mountains, forests,

Deep ravines, hidden valleys and seas,

Its rays offering them all,

A glimmer of the radiance,

That may well light up their way,

On their paths,

Guiding them onwards,

To their real destinations.



I look at the sky around,

And see a lone bright star,

Which I think is the planet Jupiter,

Slightly ahead westwards of the moon.

And again I feel the tug,

Stronger and best-felt this time,

And I lose myself,

In the loveliness of everything that,

Happens to be my articulate beloved.



And in the midst of my thoughts,

I pause and wonder,

Who made her even get the notion,

That she is ugly.

Whereas, in truth, she is prettier,

In soul, heart, mind and body,

And added to her innate qualities,

Of hidden purity and rare  beauty,

Are intelligent and wisdom too,

And she is indeed deep, very much so,

Than almost everyone that I have met,

Or even shared a brief moment,

Of acquaintance with,

Via a smile or a handshake.

If only for a while or more...

My beloved poetess is mythical,

In her totality of absolute subtlety...



She misses me though from miles beyond,

As the repeated tugs that nudged my heart,

Have revealed it to me.

And how much more do I miss her!

Despite the moon and the galactic aroma,

And the saintly air of quiet sanity:

That is the lighting spark of divine love,

Divine and God-blessed true love...

And then it intensifies,

My love and longing for her

To be here just with me,

Just like the ardent Orion,

Seeks communion,

With the adorable Aphrodite.



Love is simply unexplainable,

Specially when it rises higher,

And soars above all attraction carnal.

And this is what makes us both,

Miss each other so badly.



I look up again at the sky and the moon,

And then at the Pole Star and Jupiter,

Exclaiming: O Lord God of power!

How much more must I miss her...

The better half of my soul,

How much more O Lord God?

How much more?