The House Sleeps

At night the house sleeps
just as everyone else
it tires of the lights
the sound of padding feet
open doors
half open drawers
whistling kettles
and unwashed cups
the comings and goings
it’s all too much…

As the evening passes
it rests on unsure legs
waiting for its occupants
to turn off the circus
soon as the lights dim
dissolve into darkness
sighing in relief
like a woman’s tresses
the walls comes loose

So, while the living gently sleep
a silent energy is about the house
it has neither a form
nor a name that I know
it’s like something is born
out of the night’s womb
a motherly presence
a strange reassurance
as if in my aloneness
I’m not alone

Many times I think
is it the divine
an energy a sign
a rare peacefulness
which I can’t find in this world
it emanates from outside of me
as if it lives in the very air
I breathe
if it isn’t me I think
then it must be them

The powerful principle
masculine and feminine
the Universal father unimaginably kind
as the Creatress
She is the Mother Divine
oh how every space
fills with their love
oh why oh why do I feel
a little disturbed

To have you so close
and not desire more
must a devotee learn to live
without your darshan
I know my failings
entitle me to much less
and yet, here you are
in this house
in a form in a way
I’m only beginning to comprehend…