The Flowers Of Thirst By Stephen Gill Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The eternal flame of love keeps burning,
Burning mystically
And the poet marking it,
The flame going red,
Turning into a blaze,
The embers falling from.

A poet Wordsworthian, Keatsian and Shelleyian,
Gill is a poet of beauty
Which is truth
And goodness,
Beauty is truth and truth goodness,
Satyam shivam sundaram.

The thing which it is in a flower,
The thing which it is in a floating cloud,
What it is in the innocence and ignorance
Of a child,
He admires, admires them,
A poet of love and its worth.

Love is a melody tuned and played
In many a tune,
Love is a sweet note breaking
Into many a melody
Charming and luring enough,
Enchanting with the music of heart and soul.

Love is a dream dreamt
And seen
In the image of a dreamgirl standing before
And greeting,
The photograph of whose
Decorating the studio of images.

The Flowers of Thirst is a book of dreams
Seen and envisaged,
Of idea and image
And reflection,
The brandy or beer of beauty
Brewing in the form of love-wine.