Living in Fearlessness
A fear of the doomsday lives in me
That no fretting has helped me offload.
So be it. I must live with it all my life,
But with mind in a perceptive state,
For fear not to make in me its abode.
Dreams I see, but not many in fear
And those that I see, I let them go free.
As the creator that I am of dreams,
I can concoct many more the next day.
Thus, I can sleep without anxiety.
Fear is what I must fight in priority,
As it’s a bee that once makes its hive,
Its intrusions will be difficult to hide,
An unsparing spiral of death it will be
Like a hidden hunter, an ominous flea.
Fruits and flowers in my land of fancies
Have taught me to live by my insights.
With my flaws and instincts set ablaze,
I have dug deep with a meditative mind
To soak me in my fearless inner voice.
Life’s Music
The heart is an instrument of music,
The art of which dwells in the gods,
Still, it has a panoply of insolent notes,
A work of years a musician will take
To compose them, yet are notes
He might never conceptualize.
Lies stored in the heart of a human,
An orchestra of emotions unveiled
That he plays all his life in its sublimity,
With a splurge that moves the world
Or with a splash that falls in shreds
Even at a whiff of impudence in the winds.
Life is short and its music has an echo
That keeps rebounding within its walls,
Rekindling embers that never took fire
Or kindling a fire that lingers lifelong,
In silence I hear the symphonies.
Grief and pain are played on a fiddle.
Destination
Not all that I like is in life.
Not all in life is what I dislike.
Life shows a way to appease
All its likes that I may dislike
As sooner or later will unite
The likes and dislikes in a fanfare
As life is a platform to reconcile
With all that comes its way
And with all that goes away.
No choice is a perfect deal
As failings are at all steps
So why waver at the crossways?
Each path has a destination:
Temple, ashram, or museum,
And all destinations have links,
So whichever path you choose,
Within reach is the final destination.
The things that could have been
Are sheer mirages in our minds.
An oasis of peace is the destination.
The Winding Trails
In meadows the music of water roars,
Beckoning me to its pastures
To surf over the beauty of nature
That these pristine settings have to offer.
Mystifying trails crisscross the countryside
And head to ports of call far and unknown,
Over the sky float pieces of clouds blown
By the wind when it takes them on a ride.
Grand is the mood of the mountains hostile.
Dwarfed is their roar of laughter in pain.
The bolt strikes in no time and brings the rain.
When the sun comes back, so does their smile.
The muddy trails reach out to the mountaintop
And gaze into the empty void floating below.
Lost is not the toil but in tatters is the trail flow;
Short on joy is mirth with angst as its throb.
Path of Wisdom
The tempest of heat in full swing
Has yet to dampen my aspirations.
Since I learned to live in hot and cold,
I imbibe the pleasures of both.
Life is not a cakewalk for most,
But mined with splinters of glass.
Though it encounters harm and afflictions,
Still, the brave spirit never perishes.
The paths converging and diverging
Are passages intrinsic to a man’s life.
If he cannot reconcile the twists,
The battle is lost before even waged.
Life does not stream the same way.
Outlooks to life mature as a tree grows –
Tenderness blooms into strength
That no passing wind can sway.
Tormented are the minds of many men.
Equanimity is present in men of wisdom.
Compassion is the path to embark on
To revive contentment in heat and cold.
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