a poem by Meena Nanda

She arrived, not suddenly
like the stream!
Filled was the environment
with the flying stars of factuality.
The sprites of thrust,
showers of coolness,
then the audience as if
stood up and clapping.
Or lifted the whole wind,
to capture future breaths.
Desire arose for shutting down all the entrances.
But was only enduring void.
The truth gathered all stars
and fled away.
Remained again,
chasing, collecting, restoring, facts.