Flame of the forest

You flame of the forest
I urge you to engulf again
in a bhikshu rapture, filling
fulfilling my barren aravalis
with embalmed scents
an incessant tapestry
of scorched sunsets

You of leafless simplicity
an endearing collage of
holi coloured indulgence
a riot against the desert
winds, jubilantly alive
I summon your virility
be immaculate
an aphrodisiac
let your succulence
stitch a tapestry
of majestic light
across the vacant
hills, drained and
sparsely clothed

be the mendicant
over slippery stones
feet held together
by the threaded
chants of empty
caves, echoes of
widowed songs

You of tri-foliage leaves
be Brahma, Vishnu, Siva in renunciation
your plumes divine and flowerets aplomb
be crimson hymns
strain colours into
the muslin skies
teach these mountains
to be resplendent with
a caramelised glaze

You of wild ornaments, and spoonfuls of blood
You of medicine pods on crooked Palash stems
You of red, crimson and tangerine
You shed yourself as you glow like
skin of unpregnant ripened wombs
be the yin to her yang
be the rust to her rotten
be the fertile to her barren
be the mirror to her opaque
be the hermit to her homestead