Mutual Concourse Poem by Prabir Gayen

Mutual concourse
(To Ritu Didi)

I am versed with the knowledge,
The most perfect is the report
Thou art not born to die and not
grow with time as others,
No mud is there in the vein to circulate,
Divine excitation doth run through thy vein,
Thou art, my soul knows, aerial joy,
In the garden of flower unlimited outfit,
In the heart of a poet figure of speech,
I will hide thee inside the burgeon deep,
Petals will hide thy glorious sight,
As panting breath suspended
thou wilt live in the core of my absolute sheath,
The song of my heart and knowingness,
The sequestered recess of my soul.
The flowers will feel shy touching thy breast,
The Sun will recede into the cave for thy shine,
Birds will stop chirping for the quaint smile,
Thy flowery branch spreads touching the firmament,
Divine song will blow without note,
In silent exuberance a conflux will go
between thou and mine,
In deep despair or joy, love or languid dote,
In thee my unknown self as pain tells,
In pain despondency dawns with joy,
Within joy or pain we both are one,
A flowery band will drop from heavenly field,
In the delving deep of heart a deep advent,
A sheer shore of mutual concourse.
A clandestine journey will enter upon
my soul,
With invisible wings that doth soar,
For thou hast maketh my being bubble,
If song vernacular fails to bring inner proximity,
Love with mundane madness hinders the way,
Humming hymn with which soul is made,
Silence naked and solid will pave the path,
Innermost nearness must dawn
for alike our extra-corporal temper,
On celestial level where virtue or sin enters not,
Where mind fails to capture the depth,
Where depth is abysmal and sheath is absent,
In absolute zero or shallow is the shore,
Where godliness is unable to pour,
Where flame reaches not and surely
The gospel of love,
The doctrine of ancient rhyme,
The mass approval of righteousness fail,
Religion will bow with wow!
In that Ultima of thought and impetus,
Where the sound of dewdrops subsides,
The pointfrom where waves rise
and into which it dissolves and regains,
Our will be the meeting the intercourse
Without course.
The action without action and love without
Fetters,
The joyous union without alpha and omega.
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