The Prophet

Met a wise man once, Not a chiseled, silver beard monk, But a weathered limping man. A prophet he started to narrate a tale, Not a saga of god and ablutions Nor sordid scripture of poverty around Standing majestic on the banks of holy river He whispered softly in my ears listen to the melody …

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Story of Life

Someday you will be able to hear The hollow whispers of the blue sky The gentle heartbeats of Mother Earth The sad songs of the little sparrow Soft mooing of the folds of waves Fluttering of the withered leaves Someday you will be able to narrate Your story on Earth to God.      

A Dying Man

Yesterday saw a dying man lying breathless on the cobbled pavement, near the majestic Promenade A face so fragile, marred by the ailment called life, a look of a victim  and hardships endured An appearance of a sullen disappointment, masked beneath  the scaly, withered skin Hanging on to one thread of breath, life gradually dithering,  …

Homeless

I was also the son of my father  Born of his destiny  Hunger raised me with a lot of love  Slept under the vast sky  Earth as my mattress  A homeless board my  A ceiling of abode,  Made secret love to pillow  squeezed tight between legs Mocked at the sane people Who yelled called me …

Practice Simplicity A Short Story

The new disciple is excited when he’s seeing the Master for the first time.  He jumps at the opportunity and curiously asks, “How do you practice Tao, Sir?” “When you are hungry, eat,” thoughtfully the master says, “When you are tired, sleep.” The answer is astonishingly simple to the disciple, as he is expecting something sagacious. …

The Hermit

Once a man from mountains Prayed in a little cave, carved By the mighty slopes, in his Dark little den, the hermit Sought the benevolent god Twenty-eight days and nights Storms howled, giant trees Uprooted, jackals growled But the denizen without Flinching sat still, on the Twenty-eight day of the ninth Month, a vision bright …