In Loving Embrace

It’s all love that there is.

From the time the morning lark 

Heralds a rosy day 

Awakening from deep slumber

To when the gentle breeze

Caresses with the sweetness

Of the nightly coral jasmine

It’s all love - nothing but love.

The whispering trees

A young one nestled trustingly

The flitting butterflies

A gurgling brook

Love all around.

Yet the heart longs

For the moment when

I may gaze into that pair of eyes

Held in steady embrace

Engulfed with graceful love

Awash with tears

Grieving the pain

Of long misremembering

Finally safe now, resting

In one stillness

Love meets love

Two hearts entwined as one

In deep embrace.

The Last Good Fight

What is a good fight?

Jostling among the masses,

For name, fame, and space?

Glory that comes and goes, 

Sooner than night and day?

Pursuit of the ephemeral thrills,

Roused by heedless senses?

Laboring on the hamster wheel,

Of societal conditioning?

Beseeching distant others,

For a trickle of worthiness?

Ever craving, ever struggling,

Meandering the badlands,

No home to abide in.

We tell ourselves stories,

Of who we are, and

What has become of us.

The many garbs we wear - 

Preening behind the guise of arrogance

The ugliness of incessant self-loathing

Languishing in the pool of self-pity

Dragging feet in bewilderment

The weight of shameful incompetence

Moan-fully grieving the loss of an apparition

Or, basking in pride at vanquishing a shadow.

Many moods, many misperceptions.

What is the good fight?

The journey that begins, by

The grace of the compassionate Guru,

A glimpse of the resplendent truth,

The attribute-less Brahman.

The fight that peels away the layers,

Of aeons of persistent misidentification.

A journey of dispassionate purification,

Steadily discriminating between

The Truth and the untruth.

Ever abiding in virtues,

Resting in a tranquil mind,

Restraining from the play of senses,

Renouncing the pull of worldly pursuits,

Remaining unmoved by the opposites,

Reliant on the Guru’s teachings,

Reposed in unwavering focus.

Fervently longing for Oneness, 

Infinite eternal Love.

uddharedātmanātmānam nātmānamavasādayet ātmaiva hyātmano bandhurātmaiva ripurātmanah (6.5) 

Let a man lift himself by his own Self alone, and let him not lower himself; for, this Self alone is the friend of oneself and this Self is the enemy of oneself.

Solid Ground

Tossed about in the tumultuous ocean

of unceasing coming and going,

Frantic to grasp on to anything

with a semblance of stability,

One inadvertently grips a relative truth

much like clinging to a buoy.

Anxious to not let go, 

Exuberant at one’s own fortune

in finding a brief respite,

One shouts over the din of the ocean

Waving arms animatedly,

Vociferously delivering an unsolicited sermon

Proclaiming the goodness of the float.

Words that dissipate like sea foam,

Failing to resonate with kith or kin.

Befuddled and indignant with self-righteousness 

Grasping firmer still, resolute.

Bobbing up and down in unsteady rhythm,

Soon the arms tire from the incessant clinging.

Respite no more, but limiting freedom

Despising the very thing that seemed like

deliverance from misery.

Once again, a panicky search ensues.

The Truth, much like solid land

Steadies different than a tossing buoy.

Beyond compare

Unfathomable to restive minds

Unprofessed by mere words.

Blemishless, untouched by pangs of desire.

Unchanging eternal bliss.

Be still, wild mind

Let go the laboring buoy

Relax into being

Step onto solid ground.

Steady There

It is easy to despair that everything changes

That too in the blink of an eye.

Yet, if you notice, much stays the same.

Everyday you could wake up to a mountain,

Witness it’s firm, secure, fatherly presence.

Although the love of your mother may flicker,

The moon waxes and wanes in unfailing rhythm.

If you cannot yet ground yourself in wisdom of the beyond,

Do not be discouraged, there is much to hold on to right here.

The grass is unfailingly soft

The bark of trees reassuringly rough

The sun always embraces with its warmth

Water always quenches your thirst

The wind caresses, if you could heed.

No matter how old you are

Or where on earth you maybe

It shall always be so.

Open the window of your heart

To enter the sanctuary of nature

Steady in love.

By Grace

When love is rationed out in a small cup,

Contentment.

To let that cup pass other mouths,

Kindness.

And still give of oneself some more,

Generosity.

To find one’s light under a bleak sky,

Hope.

And endeavor for a beautiful morrow,

Fortitude.

Plod on through paths that aren't clear,

Endurance.

Unswayed by passing fantasies,

Temperance.

To make an offering of oneself to be chiseled,

Humility.

Into something larger,

Love.

To awaken into abundance,

Infinite grace.

Going Out for Curry

Another day, another lunchtime.

On the stove, simmering

Half-hearted curry.

The one you make, when

you are too tired to make,

yet, still have to make,

Something.

Onion, tomatoes, aubergine,

dash of spices, dunked

in no particular order.

Pour some water,

bring to a gentle boil.

Ten minutes in,

Think it might be done,

Most likely palatable.

Here, taste a spoonful.

What? Very mellow curry?

Well, its just a curry

Calm the curry down!

Zesty curry another day,

Promise, I say.

Can love carry the day?

Go out for curry, you say?

First, kiss the blues away

Then to better curry, 

Carry me away.

Another Enchanted Dawn

circa, 2010

The soft petals nested cozily,

Tightly held together by the sepals.

Sweet fragrance drummed inside,

Raring to escape tender frontiers,

Dainty bud under the silvery moon,

Gently swaying in the chilly breeze.

From far across a vast expanse,

The rays of the sun quietly found its way,

And touched the flower bud.

Cradling it in light,

Caressing it with warmth.

The calming promise of a new day.

The bud now bathed in warmth and love,

The petals first abashedly peeped out.

Fascinated with the world outside,

Boldened by the exuberant sun,

Stepped out its little alcove,

Smiling radiantly in resplendent hues.

The fragrance awaiting freedom,

Took flight into the azure sky.

Snaking across, twirling out,

Gliding into unbounded directions.

Teasing the senses with a whiff,

Before soaring away on its unstoppable trip.

With blossoms heralding fresh hope,

Vibrant tints uplifting the soul,

Elusive smells luring out newer dreams,

Hitherto, an unsullied day was born.

Promising a fresh beginning,

With another enchanted dawn.

Born Again

circa, 2010

I  flutter my wings,

I try to take off.

I wish I could soar,

 Farther than the skies.

I wish there was no limit,

No boundaries to hold me back.

 

The heart yearns for autonomy,

The mind aspires to break free restrictions,

The soul hopes to thrash out manacles.

And yet I live life chained,

Sinking deeper into the quicksand,

Smothering my sense of self.

 

Burdened by past failures,

 Carrying the debt of accrued mistakes.

Living to the dictates of society,

Prisoner to its unfair methods.

Submitting to un enlightenment,

Loosing out all sense of direction.

 

The more I try to flee away,

The more I entangle myself,

 In the confines of this massive web.

I wonder if there could ever be a day,

Unbound and imbued with light.

If I could be born again?

The Moon Maiden

circa, 2010 

The falcate moon as her celestial abode,

The winsome maiden of demure mien,

Gazed down at the fecund earth,

And yearned for affable company.

 

The captivated multitudes marveled,

With detached warmth from the world below,

None evoked her in the brightness of day,

She who was an adornment of the night.

 

The nurturing earth thrived with aplenty,

For the swarming masses borne by her,

Who were besotted with her charm.

A devoted relationship of much love.

 

The maiden with her bosom bursting,

With much love and longing for company,

Implored, pleaded, meditated, wished,

That someday her earnest desire be met.

 

They say destiny can be changed,

With chaste and honest desires,

Spouting from the depths of one’s soul,

Can the moon change her destiny?

A Lake in the Desert

Cradled in the lap of the mountains,

lay a desert lake of pristine blue.

A watering hole in a thirsty land.

Serene and still, a vessel

of content and collected energy

within the walls of its simple abode.

It had for company, leafless trees

dotted on an arid terrain.

Life abounded on its gentle shores. 

A benevolent nurturer

in a harsh landscape,

where grace was hard to come by.

The rain clouds had been drifting

at the whims of the bellowing winds.

Tousled and sapped of this arduous journey

through the skies, longing for a place to rest,

Until it chanced upon this immaculate blue.

Serene, still, and inviting.

Weary of its restlessness, and

Tired of its ceaseless wandering,

A longing to be home at peace set in. 

Love surged through its billowy bosom,

as the clouds hastened to descend, with 

Tender kisses that pattered on the lake.

Tranquility seeped as the clouds

Melted into the dewy lake, and

the color turned a deeper blue.

A respite to the yearning multitudes,

the waters settled in an endless embrace,

Under the sanguine light of the full moon.