I come from a land of learning,
With a fire that is always burning,
But here, every bit for them I leave,
A new chapter is all I need,
A sky of my own to fly,
Catching her scent I always try,
A scene of my own I set,
Moulding her, I completely forget,
This world I then abandon in return,
And I feel my creation of a blazing Sun,
I fly I fly, up, up, there!
Oh! I did create it all from here,
I see, I find her on the leaves of a tree,
Or sometimes on that chair that’s free,
On the rocks or sometimes the empty streets,
Or that child who cries or the one who bleeds,
On the glowing sheets of paper I sometimes paint,
A dancing melody I forever chant,
There, there she smiles for me,
And there, there sun shines on me,
I go up and there and down with her,
When sometimes, no care, I jump into the river.
Trekking on a path of life to immortality,
Time moves in an eternal cycle of mystery.
Neither is there a beginning nor an end.
Those gets dissolved who rolls in the time,
Again appears somewhere somehow.
Cycle of existence continues until then.
Wise ones stay on time are the ones,
Who lives and sees beyond time n’ space.
Metamorphosis completes into human form,
as we float in the tide of births and deaths.
All who does not swim; the ocean consumes.
Those who are wise stay afloat among waves.
They cross sea of turmoil in repeated attempts.
Then transcend world to reach home of tranquility.
They takeoff and fly on wings of wisdom to heights,
and see the whole universe as one entity.
Once reached on upper deck of truth,
Shall remain there observing fun of cosmic dream.
They are awake aware of reality; tries waking up all.
helping all to see and enjoy ecstasy.
Playing a role in the dreaming n’ deep sleep.
Yet, they remain in effulgence; unaware of day and night.
Holy mother witnesses and hears all states of life ticks.
She is the seer; seen; and scene altogether.
Oh! Mother wake me up from my deep slumber to light!
One day, a drop was lost from his
Old sea father’s finger
Drop replied him by message
Don’t try to search me anywhere
And worry about me or cry for me
First time I face the death but with
With my freedom
No matter where I live and how
And how strange peoples meet me
Under what circumstances?
Whether I may die in soil or burned by hot summer
And lost somewhere in air I don’t
But overheard by others, like people
I also unknown but never afraid of it
That is also, I do not know.
Or I maybe crying sad queen’s tear drop
In her palm or wiped out to hide me in
Pocket by others proudly
I may be helping to cry on death of relatives.
Or may be last drop of love affair to quench
Thirst one of them
Their ego of self existence never care me to
Preserve but somewhere in their memory
Must I come back even not valued much
I do not cry but for my little life but I
Could became drop of their last glorious
I know they would also never try to search me
Because they very well know
I cannot be found like a moment
But I must be there somewhere in eyes
With no special sign to recognise me
Like their faces
Nobody there like to live faceless and common
I like to vanish for them because they are dying
Crazy to gulp me as true moment of life
How their world, eagerly waiting for me for many years
Then father, do you like to bind me close to you?
Don’t worry about me one day I will come back
Home certainly, but cannot say when?
Birth after birth, we go on spilling
Filth and dirt all though our walks
Then one day, we hope some one to lead
Hold our hands, to the promised land
Where births and deaths end
Oh there, I visualize a soft smile!
Waves of words abruptly
Knocking on my door untimely
With agonizing voices of pain
But that odd time I lost my pen
No piece of paper near
Whole city drowned in darkness due to
War began with rivals
And person’s mind war never stopped
Like this odd time “take us out of this hell!”
Every scream interpreting me
Or is it my inner voice rising?
At last found a piece of paper
And my grandson’s k.g. pencil
Is it enough to write down their woes?
Paper was eager to tattoo on all his body
This one sign is enough to quiet all chaos?
I later found it was not my voice but very
Ancient historical thousand years old
Events recalling me and their relations with me inseparable
And once I felt that not only my self existence
Alone it is attached with cosmic super power
Like www.planetearth.com .
Conjurer, dark’s carrier-
Poets have spied upon you,
unleashing your symbolic mask
as an altar hovering with death.
Speak no more, the human’s
Breathe easy bird
as you float subterranean wings-
heeding God’s calling.
misunderstood by the ages-
Voices of poetry chanting,
fear, death and mystery’s
“There you are now” said God.
“Go feed my prophet,
who is hungry,
who has withstood
the desert of knowing.”
Cheetah getting famished sets the ambition to chase a Deer,
Doesn’t stop until the purpose is clear,
Doesn’t get confused by seeing an animal in the middle,
Achieves the goal and makes the deer to cripple.
You are the Cheetah and deer is the goal,
Other goals are animals in a whole,
Concentrate only on the purpose you have chosen,
Make the goal for you to be frozen.
Frame the aspiration by yourselves you had,
Detach negative from mind which is bad,
Attention only on the ambition you designated,
Do not lose confidence even if you are underestimated,
Add courage, trust, and determination to your mind,
Do not cease until everything is fine.
Be like a cheetah, contrive goals
And be successful in life
Once there was a boy,
For whom conferring was a joy.
And the boy loves his friend so much,
And enjoys everyday in his touch.
Everyday the boy visits his house,
And a feeling of joy arouse.
At the time of acquiring something from his friend,
Saying “No thanks” was his real trend.
And the boy was happy.
One day the boy perceived,
A bull searching for food to be received.
And famished poor people pleading
People for food feeding.
And condolence stimulated over the boy.
The boy on the very next day
To keep the starving away
Took grains, silage and balancing food after lunch
For the bull and the poor people to munch.
And by seeing the elated tears,
The feeling of pity in the boy clears.
And the boy was happy.
But time went by,
And the boy prolonged offering thereby.
One day the boy’s beloved friend,
Visited the boy’s house for joy to tend.
And the boy offered something for his friend,
As giving was his real trend.
And the boy was happy.
Always keep your hand
In a conferring position, rather than
In an acquiring position.
And if you always expect
Something from others
You are a beggar
‘Beseech thee, pardon my soul,
Let me go, O’ Lucifer!’
Groaned the angel in fangs of death,
Trust there melts; remains no faith.
Calm white attire
Confronted the dark,
Silence of the ‘liar’
She could now hark.
‘Give me your soul,
Or I myself should take?
Better make no howl,
My territory, it is death lake…’
Commanded the evil might
With hands raised
In authority to pluck her soul away.
Ah! Horrible sight,
Nothing the angel said
And could feel nothing but dismay!
‘What bad I did to you?’
Suddenly she asked.
The devil spread his masculine wings,
Laughed, and in her helplessness,
Like the savage beast, he basked.
‘Causes are for goodness,
No cause to bad.
Death is the truth!
Better be not sad…’
With words of pride
Lusty with shallow wisdom,
He put his right hand upon her neck.
Suddenly the angel faded
Like the time wrapped in sand.
The devil now wondered
With his empty hand.
A horrible loud voice:
“There is LIGHT,
The Authority of universe.
Darkness is not endowed
To bring goodness or adverse
In the world.”
Win and loss; pearls and pleasures;
The indifferent waves of mighty ocean;
The fading evening and rising Sun;
Oft the falling and trembling heart measures:
‘What was the thing that changed?’
‘Where is the world? Where will it be?’