Counterbalanced being

 

With black and white in the head

and a rainbow in the heart,

weighed down by hate

and uplifted by love,

I feel neither vertical

nor horizontal,

It feels like

being in a different plain.

Love-tangled beings

 

Sharing love is like sharing roots,--

groping around;

entwined to seek soul’s nourishment

from connections and relationships,

The fine web of existence,

intermingling destinies:

the meeting bodies being the earth;

love the web of their entangled roots;

and their souls are the nourished ones.

The mirror of love

 

The shine, light and glow from within

peeping through her eyes,

Raising inspiration

to fulfill my dreams,

With fullness of desire in my chest,

if I don’t love myself,

who else will love me?

And if not now, then when?

Enchained sovereigns

 

We are imprisoned

and enchained in our own freedoms,

Despite their appearance to bestow freedom,

that which we

take to be the proofs of freedom

are in fact the bars and barbed fences,

These stop us from reaching beyond

what we have so far considered

to be the pinnacle of freedoms.

The chasers

 

Sometimes even forgiveness

falls short of

accepting the reality,

Sometimes even love

falls short of

accepting the truth,

Sometimes even kindness

falls short of

looking over the hurt,

Sometimes even gratitude

falls short of

accepting the joy of what we have.

We are after all mere shadows

chasing the form that we dream about.  

In disharmony with nature

 

A see-saw of emotions

ripping through wooden fibers,

Cutting the dead wood of memories

in the heart to make

wooden dolls, statues, mannequins,

That’s how most of us are:

much less alive than trees and flowers.

 

Customized by conventions;

wind-tangled by circumstances;

breeze-tousled  by situations;

pain and suffering sculpting our destinies,

We allow ourselves to be molded

by the forces of atrophy

manifesting in our thoughts,

While the trees and even animals

seem to absorb more automatic order

into their existence,

They do it just by

allowing the open forces of nature

to shape them in harmony with eternal laws,

While we filter too much negatives and chaos

using our brainy check-dam effort

and channelize the intellectual sludge

for war, violence and strife.

A wealthy corpse

 

The tattoo maker

working with quiet persistence,

Tattooed a label on the heart,

which turned a quagmire,

a trapping swamp.

 

Life then became a mere

undoing operation managed by death

to relieve the struggler of his pain

and carry him home

as a very rich man,

who returns with all treasures

unspent during the journey.

 

He died very rich,

For he still possessed

all that he was born with,

He now lay like a foolish farmer

who kept all his seeds

safely hidden in his barn,

Never took them to the fields,

Never opened them to the sun’s smile,

In musty darkness they rot now,

Life seeped out,

Hopes and possibilities bleached,

And gloom settles on the corpse

like crows crunching a dry carrion.

 

It was a life unspent,

Just like a tiny rodent

merely crawled on a plywood sheet,

while wasted were the seeds

that would’ve made him an elephant

joyfully stomping on solid earth.