The silence of the dark rustles the trees,
The sound of the flute lilts in deep desire.
The women wake from their sleep with ease
And they make their way towards its fire.

He stands with his waist curved and feet crossed,
Marigolds around him breathe perfume.
The girls smile and sway, their clothes tossed,
Around and across the light of the moon.

They touch and swirl around his dark blue form,
Their bangles giving chorus to his sound;
Each one of them in love, each one love lorn,
Each getting lost not wanting to be found.

He smiles. With wisdom in each of his smiles,
His lips keep playing, each thinks he is hers,
The forest grows darker, the moon beguiles,
The dark grows light, while the light in dark blurs.