Poison
Category: Spirtual
SENSES
Silence
Silence a shrine,
where unfolds
myriad tiny miracles;
obscure to that
naked eye.
Whispers of souls are
forever captured in the
turquoise mosaics
of stillness.
A sudden shrill,
the prayer and the
pilgrim dries up.
Your Light
“ I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.” -Hafiz
Belittle
“ To belittle, you have to be little.”
-Gibran
Devil in a Sea of Men
Disguised in the
hollow curves of
your eloquent words,
do I hear a vicious
hissing ; whispers of
a conniving heart?
Why do I visualize
a serpentine on the rock?
I’m not beguiled by
your deceptive talks.
By the tinkering of your
silver coins.
For I’ve on my hump back
burden of enough winters
to mark a
Devil in a sea of Men.
A Believer
Me a speck of dust
insignificant particle
May be a believer or
may be not….
Yet here I am…,
here I am with
topaz rays of the
glorious Sun on my
malformed face.
Azure brook flowing
gently through my
blistered feet.
Fluttering of crushed
leaves, music to
mine ears.
Buzzing of bees, melody
of fallen florets.
Beats of mine unborn in
the womb of violated
Earth
May be a believer
or may be not…
Yet here I am.
Divinier
Today a melancholic evening , I decided to
take a walk in pristine white snows wearing
gloomy leather boats trudging heavily on
eerie icy paths leaving behind a
place once called home
While on way, I am met by a withered skeletal
tree standing his ground despite the havocs
caused by ice and water waving at me with
his trembling Parkinson’s branches,
grinning at me in a peculiar
fashion of old men.
Crescent moon shining like a soothsayer’s
crystal it’s whites reflecting the whites of
snow prophesying , that moment of
redemption is near revealing a
vision through it’s translucent
lights
A puny little squirrel trails along may be
looking for some company chirping about the
the loveliness of weather while nibbling
on a decayed nut, playing
hide- seek with me.
Northern wind like a nagging aunt blowing
here and there doing her wintery chores, with
careless locks of snowy flakes on her forehead
poking in my affairs and blocking
my way ..
Exhausted sat at the banks of a frozen creek,
from behind a mist a limping shadow in pale
moonlight comes forth, I realize he is the deer
I hit last year with my silver car, his large
kohl eyes penetrating mine, in an act of
forgiveness he gracefully allows me to
share his space,
The gloom nestled in me dissolves, I know
on this evening I am touched by the
diviner as I went home
carrying the nut!
Shooting Star
The day I pass on and become a shooting-
star, disintegrat into million
dazzling particles
Think of me an anonymous vision
who came and went on
A mundane dream who lived well and
relished all the bounties
An unveiled phantom who roamed the
narrow aching streets as the
northern lights,
A faint glimmer who flickered when
the winds were harsh and the
tempests raging
At twilight when withered wax had
deliquesced, I a common vision
simply melt down ..
The Loveliest Soul Of All!
One fine day, the prophet of love summoned his four apostles to bring forth,
the most lovable soul, the emissaries laughed for bestowing upon the task so
basal” how difficult it would be?” Grinned the one with an air of disdain but
with the task in hand and the urgency of the prophet, the four proponents glided
in opposite directions to search for the soul loveliest of all!
First encountered a lover embracing his beloved vowing to lay his humble life
for love, the apostle heavy-hearted flew back after making a note, the second
apostle came upon a man of who held an expensive banquet in the name of immortal
love, having made a note too he soared back on his winged clouds to the prophet.
The third prophet had a rare rendezvous with a blind poet, writing love ballads on
dry leaves, the apostle had tears in his eyes and feeling assured he met the most
lovable soul in the world, went back to the prophet. The last apostle wandering whole
day in vain discovered a farmer delicately burying a little pomegranate in moist soil
Bewildered for the apostle has never seen such sight went close and heard “my poor
baby pomegranate couldn’t breathe onslaught of storm anymore,” the apostle went
back to prophet disappointed for not meeting the lovable soul he bet. Each emissary
narrated shares of their soul’s glory, after a patient hearing, the prophet proclaimed
the humble farmer burying his pomegranate fruit of having the soul loveliest of all!