The stamp of love

 

We will recover from hate

but never from love

if it has gone wrong,

Brightest smiles have the potential

to sire bitterest tears,

Lovely sweetness can easily

change to ugly sourness,

Petals hide thorns.

In love we are

on the edge of a precipice,

That’s why it’s exciting

and not boring like

the plateau of other common emotions,

We are at a titillating height

and feel floating over the lower terrain,

But we are on the edge,

On an edgy adventure of

body, mind and soul,

Mostly we fall below into the pit,

Dump or get dumped

into the heap of pain,

Then we see some lovely new face

peering over the edge,

And again we crawl up,

holding the rope of hope.

One may climb as many times

as one can manage

but the bruises of at least one fall

remain there forever on our flesh,

However hard one tries to heal it

with the ointment of fresh loves,

the scar but remains

with its peculiar purple leering smile.   

The master juggler

 

Memories are trapped in soul

because time is circular,

It spins, circles

and creates a web;

a cage around our being,

It has a fine thread

to weave its web,--

past, present and future,

Like a master performer,

it juggles these three balls,

Keeps them in the play

in its two hands:

the known and the unknown;

fear and safety;

life and death.

 

Past, present and future

keep searing through us

at their own free will,

No wonder, we live life

in mere fragments,--

hope-despair, love-hate,

dreams-reality, tears-smiles.

 

We are fragments,

And we flow for

completion, contentment and rest,

Like water running

from the hills to the sea,

We are imperfections

seeking perfection,

Pushing, colliding, mixing,

adding, subtracting,--

the mathematics of life

to solve the puzzle of our existence;

to give it a purpose, a solution.

 

Time meanwhile nullifies all equations,

The biggest equation summing to zero,

The kings vanish,

The dictators mingle to dust,

The castles turn to leveled ground,

All fractions (big and small)

fly and then hit the bottom

and get mixed in the same soil,

Only time remains,

It chuckles in its totality

from among the cosmic web.  

Sweet melancholy of love

 

I’m watching your waves

flooding, crashing, smashing

in my being,

Watching the storm

in the desolate desert,

The sand flying,

Burying one truth,

Shape it into something different

with new ribs,

Only to bury it again,--

the creative whirlpool

in the womb of your soul,

The fierce incubation.

 

The traveler moving to

reach a subtle treasure,

unbothered of worldly losses,

Witnessing her journey

of rising above and beyond

all that passed through her,

She is equipped with a knife of

contradictory saw-teeth,

Enabling her to cut

the weeds of duality,--

the breeders of pain,

Thus cleansing her path to be a

witness to all that there is,--

to be aware of the knowledge:

that all that is known

is unknown also at the same time.

 

And as you walk in your desert,

you flame through my being,

like some eternal presence,

to reach the oasis in my heart

for celestial lovemaking,

Drenched with the perspiration of love,

you walk even deeper into my heart,

making me a Sufi,

You are forever

walking nearer in(to) my heart,

while far away on earth you walk.  

A little girl’s love

 

O thou wonderful woman,

I’m honored

when you share

the innocent purity of a little girl’s

wonderment about emotions

that you felt

in your near-puberty self for me,--

a grown up man at that time,

I’m honored to be the prism

through which you saw the

larger aspects of your womanhood.

It’s like a tiny bud

sharing its story with

the sun, the moon, the dew,

the bees, the flowers and the spring air,--

all that which helped it in blooming.

Sainted wedlock

 

I’m a free spirit in my own way,

bearing my outer chains all intact,

Then you arrived

as the manifestation of

my free spirit

that knew the possibility

of free love and real freedom.

 

Your free spirit trapped in its freedom,

But freedom lay still and intact,

trapped within you,

And you proudly proclaim,

‘So many freedoms are

enchained within me!

Aah, how much I’m trapped

in my set of freedoms!’

 

I see all this by holding you

as a mirror in my life,

This ecstatic insanity

makes me laugh and cry

without any walls between them,

And floating in that tranquility

I need not have your body

to feel you in me.

Exquisite intimacy

 

I’m feeling you in me,

For I’m never away,

Never really left,

Always watching you in me,

The tornadoes of your being

heave, dance and sing,

On your waves I’m surfing,

You too surfing on the

tidal waves in my heart

like a majestic queen,

All these ripples created by

the exciting uncertainty

of our undefined, free relationship.

 

You are all spirit

and float in air,

I’m all matter,

running on the ground

to catch your shadow,

You’re the air that doesn’t stop,

Holding your balance through

tantalizing misbalances,

But I’m a poet

and I can keep the shadows of air

in my heart like real things.

 

Your spirit has to

see the matter

as a milestone on your path,

While the matter has to

hold onto colorful dreams

to rise to a higher dimension.

 

A poet is a labyrinth,

Wherein only

an unchained spirit like you

can dare to get in.

 

When I want you,

This itself is my fulfillment,

The distances melt

when I feel

how close you are,

Time stops

when I know here you are,

Right here in my heart.

Love's equation

 

Love is simply a natural need,

A pleasant sweet-sour greed,

It’s as much the need to take

as is the need to give,--

A sizzling seesaw of give and take

that excitingly shake

our life’s shape

and repackage it

with a new drape,

We have the need

to spread the seed

and fit in humanity’s creed,

We have a need

to beat our fears

with bitter-sweet tears.

 

We are missing

many things in us

and we need those things

from that sweet someone,

Take it with a right

without judgmental blight,

We also need to give

something that we have,

Give without feeling as a donor,

This give-take is

above the feeling of indebtedness,

Giving here is equal to taking,--

An accounts equation

of the laws of soul,

Giving as good as taking,

We are joyful to give

and equally happy to take.  

Man and Superman

 

This planet, mother earth,

is one body,

When she is happy

the flowers bloom,

Ravaging floods are her tears,

Green pastures are her skin,

The verdant forests lungs,

Beautiful lagoons and lakes her eyes.

 

She is joyful, angry, kind,

cruel, healthy, sick,--

all these at her various parts,

Forest fires show her anger,

Spring dews on a rose show her joy,

Fruit-laden trees show her kindness,

Volcanoes catapult her seething anger,

She flaunts her health

in pristine rainforests,

She shows her sickness and famished body

through deserts and ribbed sand dunes.

 

It’s a living entity,

Your very own Goddess mother

holding you on her palm,

Why seek godliness

far away in the cosmos?

It’s right here around you,

in you, in her,

Sadly we can’t see

what is already at home

and faraway we roam

looking for clues to divinity,

But all this while we just

walk away from it.

 

There is an imprint of godliness

in you, trees, ocean, flowers, snows, birds;

in everything,

Own it, accept it,

When we talk of seeking bigger truth,

we have a vision of the sum total

of our own tiny ones,

When we talk of godliness,

we mean our own humanness,

So stop, pause, rest, relax

and feel the super-reality

with your own super-self,

It’s in you, around you, just nearby,

Worship this home deity,--

our very own mother earth,

You’ll have paradise here only,

The unknown milestones of the afterlife

will blossom and manifest here only.

Open treasures

 

Read the colors in a rainbow,

It’s an open book,

See how the colors melt into each other

and make a pathway for dreams

across the endless cosmic terrain.

 

Pick up a flower that has

happily dropped on mother’s altar,

Smell it if it’s smell to offer,

Marvel at its petals if not,

or both if available in the bouquet.

 

Feel the friendly brace on your skin

by a leafy branch

as you rush past lost in thoughts,

It touches you to be present;

be with here and now.

 

Soak the sunshine,

Feel its warming smile on you,

It showers you with warmth

to take you out of the frozen cave.

 

Feel the kiss of breeze

on the pores of your skin,

It absorbs your tension.

 

Walk with naked feet,

Mother earth will caress your soles,

Like sponge,

She’ll draw out your agonies.

 

Feel the rain on you,

The drops will drum on your soul,

You’ll hear its cleansing music.

 

Look into the open sky,

The formation of colors, shapes,--

the shifting canvas of eternity,

It’ll teach you

to create without clinging.

 

Peer into the night sky;

into the galactic distances,

Receive the starry smiles

reaching you from millions of miles.

 

Rich man, you own the treasures,

You just need to acknowledge it.

  

A joyous and lively day

 

The morning bright,

Hopes fully in sight,

Then a dark cloudy mass

suddenly stamped its shadowy class,

It ate the sun

with thundering chuckle and darkish pun,

A sudden spell of September rain,

The birds retreated with little gain,

It seemed it’ll rain for long,

Sky’s tears fell with depressive throng,

Too much rain isn’t good,

All go with a sad brood,

But then the sun lifted the eastern veil,

Light flickered with a victorious feel,

The winds swept away the cloud

hanging with its dark shroud,

Dark, gray, bluish, white,

the sun emerges bright,

Quickly happens all this,

Rain-bathed trees glisten with bliss,

The birds come out with chirpy showers,

Drops glisten on flowers,

And everything is again

as it’s supposed to be after a brief rain,--

A normal rain-washed day

with its sun, clouds, rains, winds,

all having an equal say,

The day accepts all,

These are all its call,

The rise and the fall,

It won’t be a day

without its undulating ray,

Just like life won’t be life

without its order and strife.

Transfiguration

 

There is an indefinable nobility

and dignity in one’s soul,--

the scented core of

one’s essential being,

despite all the

muck, dirt and foul smell

on the surface,

Allow it to come

a bit closer to you,

first in thoughts,

Reading can help you in this;

talking to nice people too;

opening in the unbounded

confession box of nature also,

Then slowly over a gentle

and slow period of time,

you can still bring it closer

to your seat,--

this body vessel,

You can bring it into action,

It then is like

holding a fragrant most flower

in your hand,

And then you smile

in consonance with your soul.

Suppliant-stony & Bitter-sweet

 

Delicious flavor of freedom

lingering in her eyes,

The only way to taste it

was

through her lips,

Loving warmth tingled

in her body,

Giving a feeling of vast space

in her intense embrace.

Spurting, seam-bursting sorrow

 

The night sky looks so close

and so big

from the top of this mountain,

I peer into it

and read the

voluminous story of betrayal

written with splashy font

in her twinkling eyes.

Freedom Vs Imprisonment

 

A part of me

lost touch with life,

A door was shut

upon a little alley of life,

Then I was blind to

that aspect of life

which the little alley carried

in its journey to the main street.

But whenever a door opens,

a part of your soul comes out

to mix with

a lovely piece of art, architecture,

pattern, design,--

man-made or

self-evolved

on the canvas of nature.

The hunted hunter

 

We are less human

than we think

in our need of love,

We are nearer to raw,

animalistic aspect of nature

as we go hunting our own needs,

which we present as

the selfless bouquet of love.

During our hunt

we carry oldest, pristine fears

and like little animals

we seek safety

in the cave of love.

Nature

 

Once the mind-noise stops,

it opens a door

to the deep melody of soul,--

Nature which is the sum of

all the lesser sums.

Vagrant virtues

 

Her smile

spreading into the sad air;

her laughter

a ripple in still waters;

her words

an assurance in chaos;

her touch

bringing life to a heart

that had turned rock.

 

A sad, soft and beautiful touch.

 

A succulent transparency in her whisper

bringing light into sorrow-swept eyes;

repairing a leaking heart,--

a check dam on the stream of pain.

 

Her soft but alert presence

filling the unfillable restless void.

 

Washed with her memory

here I stand

happy and sad

with all that is

good and bad.

 

Moment to moment magnificence

 

The moment is frozen

but it breathes,

Slowly its stillness moves

and gently leaks into air,

The eerie stalemate is broken.

Reality is just a

series of such moments,

Just like cinematography,--

a moving picture;

just snapshots of perception.

Gratitude

 

How lucky I’m

even to stand amid my supposed

heap of miseries—on land,

It’s a treasure because tight now

someone is drowning—in water;

looking for a toehold

of land—dear earth,

It would be his treasure

just to stand on a garbage dump.

 

I might find this day drab and boring,

while someone would give all his wealth

to get another drab-most, boring-most day

—just a day.

 

How lucky I’m to live, breathe,

see, walk, touch, taste, feel,

while so many lose

their privilege to even these.

 

How lucky to have a home,

while so many go hunting

for a filthy corner

and put a plank, board, metal sheet,

lie under it

and call it home.

 

The clothes I wear,

the food I eat,

the people who love, care and smile at me;

even those who hate me

because they know me at least,

There are scores of those

who don’t have any of these.

 

I’m rich and lucky in being alive,

I hold a treasure,

What makes me see it?

It’s just ‘plain old’ gratitude,

The moment I lose it,

I lose everything,

Then I’m just a cribbing,

miserable, poor, suffering victim.

 

So my gratitude is my key

to the infinite luxury

and treasure I hold.