The Cosmic Dance Of Fire And Flute Poem by Santanu Banerjee

In the cradle of stars, where shadows kiss light,
Kali strides fierce, a storm in the night,
Her arms whirl wide, her laughter roars,
Through shattered skies, the end she restores.

Her tongue is flame, consuming life's frail frame,
Sundering illusions, unraveling names,
Yet from her hands, the void blooms new,
Seeds of silence, in stillness, grew.

But lo! In the meadow, soft as dawn,
Krishna's flute hums, drawing souls withdrawn,
A lilting melody, tender and sweet,
Where Kali's chaos and harmony meet.

His fingers pluck at the strings of time,
While her scythe cuts through the mythic rhyme,
Destruction throbs, creation sings,
A cosmic chord on eternal wings.

Kali crushes the brittle past,
Her dark eyes wide as the heavens vast,
Krishna smiles, a love so deep,
The worlds dissolve into his sleep.

The wheel spins round—unseen, unsung—
By her hands undone, by his breath begun.
For death is birth, and loss is found,
In their dance, the soul is unbound.

Together they weave the sky and sea,
The fierce, the gentle, the boundless free.
The ending leads to a bright new start,
Kali, the fire; Krishna, the heart.