Beyond the wanting and the not wanting
Beyond the thrills and pains of pursuits
Or, the hiding and cowering in avoidance
Aware and present.
Engaged yet detached.
As the interminable waves of the primeval ocean
Swell and crash in deafening cacaphony
Or stir in gentle undulating ripples,
Lying at ease in stately elegance.
Primal simplicity - stunning grandeur,
Ananthasayana…
When life kicks those curveballs
Would you be able to catch them
Before they land in the net
And suck you deeper into debt?
The moon awoke from a long slumber,
Shifted slightly and opened her eyes
To the countenance of the resplendent sun
Who looked at her intently, tenderly.
A timeless, eternal, loving gaze.
Mired in loneliness and doubt
Yet, steadily casting her gentle, feeble glow,
She had wallowed for ages
Hiding from this steadfast, brilliant presence
Of infinite grace - strong and fierce.
Now that she was awake and willing
Fervid warmth and light enlivened her,
Softly touching those deep crevices
That housed old, long-forgotten hurts
Born of ignorance.
The touch that caressed, slowly warmed,
Sweetly scorched away the encumbrances
Until she was aglow and rapt with
The awareness of this boundless attention
That made her tremble with the
Consciousness of her own fullness.
As she was one with the sun.
It was soon to be the end of day,
And I was exhausted.
From carrying water
Back and forth
Back and forth.
Trying to salvage a drying garden.
Even as I rooted out the weeds
Shooed away the rodents
And kept the insects at bay.
Cracked heels, calloused palms.
Lost count the number of times
The sun had traversed the skies,
As days had given way to years,
To what now seem like eons.
Gone was the zest that accompanied the thought
That I was saving the day.
Or, maybe the garden.
So I lay down on the soft grass,
And let the wilderness take over.
Watched as the rodents came to play,
Appreciated the beauty of what is.
Let go of ideas of how it ought to be.
Behold this splendid sight,
Of bareback mustangs in the wild,
Flying on clouds of dust.
Prancing, drinking in the wind.
Cast off cares, not a despot to rule.
Nor shifting through garbs, that all chain.
No muzzle to stifle a spirited neigh.
Hooves thunder on all corners.
Swift and free. Regal. Unbroken.
A gentle steadfast presence.
Not a need to acquiesce to stories.
To neither validate the narratives,
Nor invalidate them.
Or even understand.
To simply witness the becoming,
Tenderly watch the moments wither away.
Not a wish to change.
To neither offer too much rapture,
Or too much disdain.
To see is enough.
I try to count the calories
But I have 32 sweet teeth
That love to sink into
anything soft and fudgy.
I like the salty and crunchy,
I’m not partial to the crispy,
Don’t want to leave out the chewy.
What can I say, my mouth
loves a good exercise.
The other day, I was glum.
Pass me a plate of delicacies!
A small smile crept in,
The shape of a waxing crescent.
Before the mouth made an O.
All that remain are the ruins
Of a settlement that once thrived.
The people, their stories, their homes
Inhabit that place no more.
It had been time to move on,
Their play had come to a violent end.
As ravenous waves dismantled,
Cast and props had to disperse.
After a lifetime of fervent fantasy
The end was woefully traumatic.
Lives were lost on the shores,
Or in the belly of the sea.
Corpses fed the denizens of the deep.
Those that remained took flee.
Possessions rotted and disintegrated.
What could be salvaged, was salvaged.
Worked with, re-purposed, re-fashioned.
All that remain are the palm fronds
That bob to the rhythms of the wind.
The last to leave had been the loves.
Love had bemoaned the loss of the players
Through whom it had crafted myriad games.
It drifted, searching into far corners
Until it landed on unsuspecting individuals
Who seemed to walk forlorn. Verve stepped in
Sparked by inspiration and imagination.
Life is born again and again, to breathe in love.
Shapes shift, seasons shift. The song and dance play on.
Unraveled thoughts
to unearth friendship and company.
Unlaced inhibitions
to savor delight in the form.
Unwound emotions
to heal shared vulnerabilities.
Unshackled egos
to fathom oneness.
Spiraling in,
steadily - unsteadily.
Easing into love.
In the presence of light
While basking in its warmth,
There are moments of near perfection.
Instances of limitless acceptance.
Beautiful and aligned with the source,
Brief spells of transparence.
At these precious moments,
I am the light, lighted to lighten,
Harbinger of love and joy.
But these moments creep away,
As doubts, fears and desires slither in.
Tormented by a restless mind,
The alignment shifts. The opaque heart
then casts long shadows on people and events.
Hurt, desire and anger breed in dark spaces,
Spreading effortlessly like forest fire.
Until grace finds a way to seep in.
A chance to align with the light yet again,
Accepting all that is, as is.
Life flows through, unobstructed.
Transparent again,
A light to lighten.
A pair of tigers stood lost,
Staring at the enclose around them.
They look intently at the couple of trees,
Had the others sprung legs and run away?
The sun shone, but who had snatched its brightness?
The moon and stars were there, but the magic?
The wind now a bearer of bleak tidings.
Where were all the fellow dwellers?
The rocks, twigs and undergrowth felt vaguely the same,
But the paws couldn’t run. Where was there to run?
They thought achingly of the hills they had scaled,
They stared confounded at this insurmountable metal pen.
One fine day they got up and didn’t remember anymore,
What was left was a numbing pain.
This is not the way it should be?
A darkness and heaviness descended and never left,
So they sat and yawned and swatted flies,
Ate without relish.
Curious faces peered and jeered,
They never could fathom just what to do.
Spent the days and nights demented, muddled,
Just how did this come to be?
Could you steal the crimson sun from the skies
To dab your lips with its hues?
Thieve the silver from the moon
To fashion anklets for your feet?
Could you drink the blue from the ocean
Until it was blue no more?
Or kiss a rose just enough
To rob it of its scent?
If you could loot a tree of its life
Would it really be dead?
If the rains decide to descend on a desert
How would you stop the raining?
If I give you all my love
Would you try to shame me out of it?
Or would you poach even whilst I freely give?
Insensitivity, an unsure fiend
Seeks a weary voyager.
You could look into my eyes, but
Could you cup kindness in your palms?
Or infiltrate that fertile place
Where I incubate a million dreams?
If you would plug the fountain of my hopes
It would seep through the hardened earth,
To erupt as a thousand eternal streams.
