Varanasi

The hot night has fallen 
its the only thing to fall
All around everything is rising. 
On the banks of the Ganges, silent souls levitate 
rising_with the_sounds
Cymbals announce the dawn of enlightenment and 
keep_religious_rhythm.

Noise hovers expectantly
Music written for holy reasons
The same reasons that pull chants from the mouths of
hypnotised hearts.
heavy hearts, like mine, ebb through the pulsing light
akin with the lethargic Ganges, sweaty and lonely.
But as I sit,
Heart
In
Mouth
For holy reasons
I am lifted up,
rising
floating
like the flickering _ light of candles being safely carried
by the no-longer-lonely-Ganges
That now shimmers to those holy sounds
Beautiful colours of light,
en-light-en-meant
light pulled from the eyes of those silent souls and hypnotised hearts
that line the auditorium steps of the Bu-ja banks.
The morning rises,
to the sound of chants pulled
from the holy mouths of those washing in the
never-lonely-Ganges.