Lost

 

It has been months since

I last lit my faith's lamp,

So many days have passed since

prayers chimed in my dark den's air damp,

My meditating self,

Now gives atheistic yelp.

Lost my faith!

Lost my prayer!

Lost my rituals!

Lost my meditative trance!

The Light

 

The light does hark,

beyond the deepest dark,

There is a day bright,

after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,

After a barren famished fight,

there blossoms the spring’s delight,

After 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 still lurks somewhere.

The Story of a Frost-beaten Tree

 

The winter has been brutal and harsh,

And my struggle turned almost a farce,

Lost all my leaves,

With loss my soul grieves,

Still not all is lost,

For greenish life finds a host

in the wheat at my feet,

They pay a respectable greet,

My loss and my pain

don’t go in vain,

Tumbled down as my leaf

with pain and grief,

Blossom thousands around,

Wheatlings like daughters doth surround,

Fell where my tear,

Many a smile this earth doth bear,

Doesn't go waste my pain,

Sows it the prospects of gain,

If not for me,

Definitely for thee.

Little Master Corona

 

O thou little master,

The world was a bit faster,

You now force brakes,

Lions turn into drakes,

Even newspaper is scary,

No longer a news-carrying fairy,

It comes from Delhi,

Fear pinches my guts and belly,

With inhibitions I touch,

A fearful world is such.

Indefatigable Beauty

The storm screeched through the night,

Poured its fury through sadistic love-bite,

Undefeated but smiles the beauty,

Still doing its fragrant duty,

Her holy petals bear

the storm's violating drops without fear,

Holy beads now they are,

Smiles, smiles and no war!

A Cosily Safe Smile Somewhere

 

The spring’s traces last,

Hot summers approaching fast,

Languid notes in the air,

A solitary bird’s forlorn chirping

for its musical share,

Drowned in stillness

this late morning bright and fair,

The sky’s dull blue,

Spread with some mystical clue,

But a smaller world is there,

The overall unease cannot reach where,--

In its self-defined world

in a corner tiny,

The luscious wild flower

still stands brave and shiny.

The Midnight’s Throaty Call

 

The great call at midnight:

‘Will the throaty pitch and guffaw

be the same for the thousand years coming?’

If it’s to be such,

Please, then let us all

turn to nothingness at this moment.

 

Nothing new does it seem:

The chorus behind the throaty

noise seems to be the same foolish dream.

 

Such a huge and godly definition

given to the change,

Most forgettable is which,

but parroted now with childish rage.

 

Godliness has been contrived out of it,

I’m afraid it will bear the end same;

Revered now most formally,

Misunderstood and negated afterwards,

In all practices which

the sun will uncover at the dawn.