Him

 

 

Upon a clear morn I set out

To find the self I’d lost for long.

No further had I gone than

The stream that passes near

The structure that houses me.

 

I looked upon him clear as ever,

Staid yet in the flowing waters.

He looked back in equal intensity,

It seemed like I was the illusion,

And he who stared back, reality.

 

I tried to reason, to talk with

Sense that years brought in effort.

He would not listen; plainly put,

He spoke only when I chose to say

A few words and sought fewer.

 

Playfully around me, was all else-

The air, the birds, the fish et al

Unaware, blissfully, of conflicts

That reflect upon a clear stream,

But alas, only for so long today.

…

Little Power

 

 

Awake each morn on purpose

Resolve if you should but know it within-

This day is yours, this hour yours to keep;

Let into each moment a little joy, a little spirit,

Let little moments sweep off the ground beneath your feet,

Let little hopes embolden you when the soul is weak,

Let a little love in when someone calls to you,

Let a little love out when you gaze into a human soul.

 

Let little hugs of cool air set your heart free,

Let little kisses of moist rain caress your face,

Let little songs of joy lend your heart warmth,

Let little turns as the winding roads waltz with you.

 

For these little moments are yours to keep,

And hold for long beyond all else.

No peaks of tomorrow or conquests big,

Will ever find fit in your heart inside,

Little moments will those small gaps fill,

Little joys in life will show you meaning.

...

War

 

 

Guileless white, pure, they float

Upon the blue canvas that God once wrote,

Morphing with the wind, to scenes of battle

A few smiling faces, and women who tattle.

Hours they can go on, if leisure you will to spend,

From the early morn, till the day calls it an end.

 

Across the white, spread streaks of grey,

Masking the beauty that hath defined the day,

The skies now awash with the cloudy clashes

Of sword fights unseen, yet clear resonant flashes

With the sound of mighty thunder gods at war,

Battles have bled skies onto lands afar.

 

Yet pure the undaunted spirit of the whites,

Colorless - the blood that flows from the fights,

The darkness has won, this battle now rests,

Wounded in form; pride - beam the chests

Of warriors, who await for their turn to get even,

Clouds on battleground; its now the war season.

...

Reborn

 

 

To hazed illusions that blind the eye,

To false glories that have left me dry,

To pricked consciences that hide the hurt,

To shallow lies that have concealed effort,

To dreams dreamt with the woken mind,

To memories the heart won’t leave behind,

To the truth that beyond all else will stand,

To the misery that stays when the rest disband,

To the masked faces that fake true smiles,

To her voice that calls me across the miles,

To everything I am, and till date, was,

To everyone I loved; I bid byes, alas!

 

This day I die to take birth the next,

Character lures me in sinful pretext,

Molting the skin that has come to be me,

Perhaps tomorrow I shall yet be free.

 

…

Reboot

Today the world looks uglier than before,
Pleasant,it seems has walked out the door,
When your faith must walk on a tightrope,
You fall into despair or cross onto hope.

Each day a new thorn gets strewn in your way,
Yet knowing how yesterday gave way to this day,
Pursed lips, grit jaw and a brow furrowed,
We tread the paths fate hath bestowed.

The realm of pain, unbound and replete,
Blots out hope, timid and discreet,
What then must the heart seek knowing fully well,
No force will counter, that pain will not quell.

Time has come now, to empty your hearts,
For new born love and new found starts,
The past be torched, cruelly yet just,
And love will arise from the mound of dust.

Make strides on new paths, on thorns anew,
New pangs of old pain will seem like few,
Cry not in pain, but let out a hoot,
See life as you know it, and then reboot!

…

"To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path."

-Kahlil Gibran

…

The Drifter

Stretched out I lie, with thoughts abed,
Time now is still, and I,ahead,
In neither dream nor in wakeful state,
Footsteps I hear,that slowly abate.

A carcass of sounds envelops this space,
Now do I notice the deafening pace,
I veer from my path,control no more,
And at once I drop the burden I bore.

Brief but weighted, comes wisdom, a pause
And now again, my thoughts are at loss,
Drifting like shadows in the veil of the dark,
Numbed, each moment on journeys I embark.

No path do I see, no destination set,
No names, no memories from faces I met,
I walk till my body is aged and sore,
I walk till my eyes can show me no more.

But until then, each day they will grow swifter,
Distant, my own thoughts, beside me - the drifter.

A sea we call World..

Trivialities,the greatest of pursuits without a cause,
A slender boat,a broken soul, on a random toss,
Faith prevails when the storm passes hence,
Only to be bribed by worldly sense.

Knowing that tides will rise and fall,
Random,yet certain to tinker us all,
Lions too here lose their royal touch,
For might it seems,counts not as much.

A lull is often felt,a peace calling,
TO be broken by cries of hundreds,falling,
Tossing, turning, with only air to hold,
Gasping as their grip loosens with the cold.

As waters gush to fill a lonely heart,
An anchor is dropped into the lucid dark,
Lips quiver,a tear runs down,
Unseen,yet tracing the path of a frown.

A million sobs are stifled by hushes of waves,
Tears that shatter in the darkest of caves,
What once was a struggle,has ceased to be,
As yet another brave soul loses to this sea...

When Heroes Fall..

A silent storm gathers rage,
A volcano dormant,leaves restraint behind,
A new chapter begins,another new page,
A fire unborn in the recesses of the mind.

Pain loiters, and lingers for long,
That which was hidden is no longer so,
A distant voice,a blood curdling song,
Sang ballads of heroes not long ago.

Of valor,of brilliance,of battles well fought,
Of kingdoms besieged and fame bestowed,
No more battles ensue,with lessons well taught,
And men in their rightful places restored.

Clouds overcast,spread a pall of gloom,
In this hallowed land where heroes once rose,
Where brave thrive on battle,and in glory,bloom,
Are now plain names in an indignant prose.

Fame blows over,glory stands on,
In battle-storms that rip kingdoms apart,
When all else is vain,and all else is gone,
What makes a real hero is what flows in his heart.

"Heroes rise and heroes fall,
Rise again and win it all."