Monday 8 February 2016

Discerning reality


 
There is something about worn-out places that fascinate me. The exhausted paint coatings releasing itself from the grasp of the wall, exposing the underlying bricks from which they were once built, long ago. They are no longer able to contain each other. I wonder who wins here. The paint, avowed to protect the wall, now unearthing freedom? The wall, who can now be its true self? Or both, for breaking free from the vile dominance of attachment?

Who are you?

Nodding head in exasperation
Fire in belly
And fumes in ears
 
Walking on the forlorn street
A touch of zephyr
You compose the heat
 
Who are you?
 
The intelligence that wanders?
A form that breathes?
Thoughts in your head?
Or the eye that sees?
 
The lone light died abrupt
Abandoned you. Blinded.
Yet, the world you hear
Existence depended on the ear
 
Unaware of where
Bounded swiftly by strange silence
Severed from the world
Existence depended on limbs
 
Blinded, deafened and defeated
Fatigue, arduous to gauge
Worn-out limbs give away
Existence depended on something strange
 
In the cosmic expanse of universe
You and I are a speckle of dust
Yet, the Universe we are
Alas! Crafted of love and lust
 
Love for the material
Lust for the same
None fathom that their body don’t have a place
Let alone their name
 
A million times our name said
A hundred times God summons to say his’
‘Speak of me under your breath’
We, a thousand times forget this
 
Being human.
On clothes, it only lingers
Clichéd.
 ‘Being Humble’ differs only by three letters
 
Born as little bodies, the same;
Churning out thoughts and memories
Energies beyond elucidation
Experiences beyond dreams
 
You and I wrangle by mere thoughts
That sashay and glide
Countless encounters adding them up
And them making up the mind
 
Who you are is who I am
 Galaxies in your eyes, just as mine
 
Body, you see in front of you
Adorned.
Soul, nothing but a crumb of the universe
Of the same soul. Of God.

O Dearly loved!

I wait, Nervy, eager, in anticipation Like the first birth of a child Heart quivering to clasp him close Nights bereft of sleep Like a new...