Effortless win

 

A screw-shaped swirl of life

taking you in its eddying grip,

The tourbillion pool of adversities,

The maelstrom ring of trap

in the stream of your life,

The ghoulish outfall,

The mouth of misery

pouting to chuck you up,

The overpowering vortex of uncontrollable

taking you in its whirlpool.

 

Fight it on the surface

and it’ll eat your energies,

Swaying, splashing you

as you try to stay afloat,

It gets a sadistic pleasure

watching you tossed like  

a twig on its eddying surface,

Don’t allow yourself to be

kicked like a ball on the surface,

Cooperate with its

screwing drill into its innards,

Dive without resistance,

Its own fury is its undoing,

You go into its guts,

Your acceptance and faith

it can’t digest,

Your unresisting flow

eats its stomach,

Then it spews you out

of its pointed base in the depths,

You are delivered

with your energies intact.

 

Pain and its gain

 

Charred , shredded, scattered

pieces of love,

The heart would always retain them

and discard them not,

even if they cut and lacerate,

Because even though broken,

they still reflect its soul,

Like Phoenix they will flower,

The raging fires of hate,

anger and fears will scorch them,

But the crop of love

will rise from the ashes.

 

A heart would be no heart

if not for its essential core—love,

The latter might be broken

and shredded to pieces,

But it’ll triumph

and rise from fury and fire

to smile with refreshed ‘love’.  

Walking in a dark cave

 

There are times when

your heart gets shrunk,

wrung dry

and dejuiced by pain.

It becomes small

and darkness swallows it.

Accept it.

Fight it

and darkness becomes a demon.

Accept it.

Allow it to squeeze you more.

All this breaking

is in fact making,

It will push you

to the breaking limit,

You have to stop it

just a step before that

with your faith in life,

It’ll hold you in its womb,--

in that creative pitch black cocoon,

And deliver you,

Open you again

to life, light and love.

Changing seasons

 

In the icy cold,

the frozen seed of pain,

waiting for the spring thaw,

warmer days, brighter sun.

 

It then blooms into love,--

a dewy fresh blossom

on a new day.

 

We live our life

like changing seasons:

spring’s youthful love  blossoms;

summer’s hot sweating passion;

autumnal shedding and surrender

to the inevitable;

lying frozen

buried under icy layers of pain;

to bloom in spring again.

Defrosting

 

The wintertime frozen dream-self

now warms up to be an awake-self,

The icy clods melt and trickle of life starts,

Aha, sizzling bright February sun

going like a knife through the cold wind,--

an interplay of fire and ice,

Spring flowers taking birth under dew-showers,

Soul brimming with joy

under clear blue sky,

Life triumphant to come abloom

after death came within an inch of life.

The illegal migrant

 

In tune with coquettish cooing,

you take a refreshing plunge

into the pool of love,

Excitement hooks you,

making you a not-so-elegant reveler,

But forget it not o thou journeyman

going boastfully on the path of love,

Remember that by falling in love

you have simply booked

a round-trip ticket

with an open return date,

Return you’ll with a reversed fate,

It’s just a stamp of limited visa

on the passport of your heart,

You will have to come back

and squirm like an irascible caterpillar

once the adventure fever is gone.  

Distances

 

You might be embracing someone

but still that person

might be miles away from you in heart.

And someone might be miles away

yet be there right in heart’s center.

Be a generative canvas

 

With its impish quirks

the darkness that was seeking

the silvery rivulets of shape

from its shapeless mass,

Now it finds a form

in his heart.

 

Never forget that

even light is seeking

shape, form, embodiment,

Allow it,

Open up,

It will sneak in,

Filling you up

Safe zones

 

A fish’s drowning is on the land

where you stand

safe on the lovely sand,

And you drown

like a miserly pathetic clown

where she swims,

We are kings in our zone safe

but paupers in other’s territory.

The song of life

 

A sweltering tropical night,

The electric saw of her heartlessness,

cutting my dead heart’s woods,

I salvage a fragment of myself

from the slaughter house,

I carry the cutting like a treasure,

The melody is still alive

in its wooden fibers,

That’s where my tapasya lies,

I’ve to work like a passionate artist

and shape the flute

to bring it closer to life,

Then like a flautist

touch my lips to the flute

to come still closer to life,--

to love, to hope, to smile.