If only I could conceptualize all the things I feel
The tingles at the edge of my soul
My heart filled with unbearable awe
With a sense of impending loss
If you could feel the incessantness of my desire
The soft curvature of my palpable heart
The vessels that run through it
The uncertainties that hound it
With each drop of my blood,
With each pang in my chest
I am lost more and more
In dreams and thoughts
Oh, one with the voice of sweet lyre
My messenger of blooming spring
My redemption, come too late
Come too slow, come too uncertain
Mine famish and satiation
My hope, mine altar, mine intercession, mine devotion
Mine and mine, all the same
Mine and not mine, all the same
A DESI MUFFIN 