"yellow moon" (I took a picture of your name (2/6)

                               Too much, not enough
              My buried secrets find me in the yellow moon.
                  When the earth is still and the sky is dark
           And sobs are muffled by the shower stream and
                        Pillows, it is then in the quiet night
           That my brain beats louder, and I close my eyes
                 To count the shapes on the ceiling again,
        To recall the faces I see in the shadows above
                   Me, free and floating while I lie pinned
            And I flip through all the faces I have seen,
                        Falling popcorns at my  room
                     That I have smelled a bit of mothball,
                               Kabir’s hand to god’s,
Leaking ceiling tiles, exposed duck works, dust, and cobwebs,
Lines in the temple, accented with red and greens and golds,
                 The rain in my eyelashes, Angeles staring.
        And my arms that don’t reach far enough to pull me up
          From you grasp - too much of you, not enough of me,
                        And I will float away eventually.
                Maybe under the soft light of the yellow moon?
                 
                                                                                 -S.Dhar.