The Mother

 

I’m the fire,

Who can fathom my

burning core’s plight?

They dance in my warmth

and see only the light!

The Flower’s Tears

 

Flowers aren’t supposed to weep,

Even if their petals are vandalized,

As the raping storms

spit all their fury

on their fragrant face.

It’s just for beauty’s sake, they say,

And tears on its petals are no tears,

These are unholy signs of its revolt.

So they just expect it to smile

while their poisonous fingers

greedily tear away petal after petal.

Listen you merciless fools!

A flower bears the pain most!

Even though its unfading smile

never allows it to surface on

its smiling face.

But a flower weeps unseen in the

dark hours of the night,

Humans, the dew-laden petals that you

gratify your senses with

are in fact the tears of that

soft petalous self.

The Smile, the Godliness

 

O thou wind-lashed flower,

Sadistic nature took rapist bites

at your soft petals,

At each bite and cut it laughed

and licked its blood-smeared lips,

You but stood unfazed for

beauty and fragrance.

The storm meanwhile

kept on increasing its fury,

But for how long?

It ran out of its fuel,

And stood panting and drained out,

When the night and the storm died

and a beautiful, warm, sunny day was born,

the profound flower stood majestically resplendent!

Its storm-lashed petals

more beautiful than ever!

Why?

Because never did it let

the smile go off its face!

A Note from Spring’s Deathbed

 

The spring's traces last,

Hot summers approaching fast,

Languid notes in the air,

A solitary bird's forlorn chirping for musical share,

Drowned in stillness,

this late morning bright and fair,

Sky's dull blue,

Overhanging the earth in paling hue,

But a smaller world is there,

The overall weariness cannot reach where,--

In its self-defined world

in a corner tiny,

The luscious wild flower

still stands brave and shiny.

The Immortal

 

I know life has rejected me,
And when death will accept me
that time is yet to be!
Till then, O Sufi, is there any light to see?
Yes brother, there is! 
It's in being with those

who have been discarded by fate,
Who have laboriously scrawled

and scribbled lifelong
but still have a clean slate;
It's in smiling with innocent dawns;
It's in basking in the sunny charms

of sultry, forlorn lawns;
It's in the faded twinkle of distant stars;
It's in saying goodbye

to the intrigues of one’s own internal wars;
It's in being with me,
And the way it is, let it be!

Love-fangs

 

I feel the shapeless mass of your love,
It creeps like a venomous reptile
through the garden of my heart,
It furiously hisses,
returning my softest kisses,
I bear the toxic marks
left on my skin by your fangs.
Still I carry your poisonous stones
in the soft cradle of my heart.
Why?
Because I have no choice to hate you,
I can just love you!

The Light Beyond

 

There is light beyond

the deepest dark depth,

There is a bright day

after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,

After a barren famished fight,

there is a full-blossomed spring’s delight,

After the pining pangs of separation,

there is a worthy end to the desperation,

After crashing in the gutters,

there is a surge and rise to bathe in holy waters,

After crying convulsions on the lips,

a smile takes honeyed sips,

After the last defeat,

still there is an undying urge to accomplish the feat,

Even when blind with despair,

there is hope hiding and cajoling somewhere,

Even in hate,

love casts its beautiful bait.