serenity and solitude,
sorround me,
the sounds of bush cricket,
the dead dry leaves,
the breeze driven branches,
the dark night and growling,
or sounds of cuckoo,
butterfly and bees...
.. my companions.
i see my growing,
graduating from bud to flower,
my blooming and dying alone!
no body to endear!
never to be enamoured!
like some of you in the plains,
with your own people,
as good as without them!
alone, overlooked,not appreciated,
for who you are!
but then God knows,
what is best for me or you,
in the wild or in the plains!
Kamakhya
Image Credit : Google
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If nothing has happened
why something is still there
the confluence of whys
now and then
making waves
at times,violent
the graphic equalizer of heart
making too much buzz
with the musings of hatred
the strings of unforgiveness
rising up, as never before
if sometimes
the soothing breeze before the rain
promises positivity
some other times
the intense humidity of mind
sends those promises
back to the farthest yard of heart
a vagary of climate change
for the heart and mind
something in the middle of larynx
difficult to dissolve
in the world of concretes
with edifices of ego pride scornfulness
searching the hearts of wax
is a journey towards futility
if painting the self
with the colors of ego narcissism
and pomposity
is that beautiful
then why the colors
will not look attractive also with them
if the tags of pride disdain
are not unstitched from the mind
how the saplings of forgiveness and love
be planted in heart
the disconnect to HIS children
will never bring the connect to HIM!
Image credit: Google
millions of them
few good
some bad
many of same genre
awesome denizens
demarcation of ideologies
beliefs
systems
frenzy behaviors
nothing new
year on year
double standards galore
pretension
the order
mediocrities idolized
cloistered minds
ignition of heart..a far cry
a fear of iconoclasm
suffocation inside
but
inaccessible outlets
irresistible materialism
pivoted opportunism
introspection faces many road blocks
quest for bliss
true realization
knowing the self
possibly impossible
one door still open
rays of omnipotence
scattered all around
delving free
subscriptions open
I don't know
whether I am there or not
in your canvas,
I never got tired
drawing the past
with the crayons of our memories
moving on,never meant
looking back is a crime!
the years gone by
may not come again
still the indelible imprints
they left behind
are enough to lubricate
the helpless heart machine
the charcoal
who knows
may be recycled
to reproduce a flame
even now!
if reading again the glossary
of our conversations
and
re-reading the notation of love
are nothing but foolishness
then let they be!
looking at the peephole
with fortitude
for a gleamer of self-made solace
is not at all to blame!
Image Credit : Google
