A tiny lamp

 

Go to some little shrine of love

where even eagles turn dove,

And light a lamp,

Carry it to your life’s camp,

Hold it

from the wind’s hit,

Keep it safe, the glow,

The joyous flow,

Walk slow,

Rejoice

this lovely choice.

The creator

 

Life is a throw of dice,

You have the choice

to aim, roll and throw

with all focus on your brow,

But the outcome is open

to many probabilities

beyond your control.

 

Then why should one throw

with so much determination

furrowed on one’s brow?

 

One should do it,

Because if you just sit

without creating chances the least bit,

Even the probabilities will die,

Left you’ll be with a cold sigh,

When you put your effort’s stake

that's where all probabilities and chances

lie in a creative lake.

 

Your effort is the mother

of the myriads of outcomes,

They may look beyond your control,

But you’re in the central role,--

the shining pole

around which creations flow

and chancy stars shine, sizzle and glow.

The winds of change

 

Mankind’s truth

is a weathercock,

It will swing

to the direction of his

winds of desire, ambition,

greed, hate, anger,

It’ll suitably point to

where it’s desired.

The protagonist

 

There is a point

when one has to change

from a spectator to a participant,

And jump onto the stage,

Play, act and sing,

Perform one’s part well.

 

Not that earlier was no part,

It was,

But it was too small

for a big character,--

like a spaceship

locked and docked

in its hanger on earth.

The dark-hearted torch-bearer

 

Sometimes misery sneaks into

such a secretive corner in us

that even we can’t see it,

And thinking it to be gone,

we take a torch

and go seeking happiness outside,

But we fail,

Wherever we arrive

with our tiny puddle of light,

darkness jumps one step ahead,

keeping happiness at bay,

It’ll remain so

because we carry

that bubble of misery inside us

and try to light the outside world.

 

Go within,

Look inwards,

Hunt that hiding darkness;

that hidden corner,

The moment

the light of your awareness

falls on it,

it vanishes,

Darkness bows out,

Then you needn’t run around

to annihilate the gloom.

Gold

 

The weighing scale doesn’t differentiate

between gold and iron,

But the human heart does,

In the human heart

a gram of gold is worth

thousands of green trees,

It’s more valuable than

even many other human hearts,

The trees can be cut,

Trust broken,

Air polluted,

Earth poisoned,

And souls singed,

All this can be done

to uphold the value of gold;

to maintain its ruling crown;

its authority and superiority

over life, love and smile.

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.