Ripples of Life

Dying at night, as if the last night of life it is
to wake up early morning...
and sleep back to bliss!
Waking up after couple of hours
magical and happy to have felt alive!

Singing, laughing, reading aloud...
blooming to feel the fragrance of the day!
Merrily it sang and cooked...
Love as if pouring, into the food!

Favourite number, the channel played
singing of Love and soulful praise!
Expression many, the soul, seemed to have played,
food, a dancing company, it did make.

A refreshing bath, awakening it was...
to pray, thank, eat merrily and sit down to read thus!
A company, complains it had
Meeting being boring, soulfully it sang!

Walden woods: cool and calm it was
dozing off to sleep, hard to read on!
Waking up and healed,
new life, new life it is!

Only to be accused by a close friend
aggravated you have my pain…
reflection of piled up emotion, so to say!
Sympathizing with the self,
but never able to forgive it at all!

Many words out of anger she spoke
not knowing, better half she is of mine!
Understood her anguish and pain
suffocation of soul, deep down!

Veil that has shrouded her sight,
the soul being sure to be removed one day!
Change of season it is, a gap: short or long
Love and Hope will bloom again
when she accepts herself, with all her heart!

The soul loves all and bitterness had none,
for Mother Nature has always been the healing one!
What people perceive, is their own perception
nothing and everything, a part of same soul, the One!

A friend after fourteen years met,
a long gap, but nothing seems to have changed!
The understanding being the same...
laughter of few seconds, memories lifelong left!

Ripples in life there are many,
surfing it, the soul of jolly!

Accepting life, as it is holy,
adventurous spirit, heroic, heroic! 

Pic Courtesy: Google

Surreal Day!

Waking up to an alarm
rather than the sweet rebuking voice of your mother
is one of the worst things to feel
when one wakes up for morning walk.

Nature being so silent
no activities, nothing…
Birds sitting calm and quiet,
when the morning sky used to
be filled with songs of joy!
 
Cuckoo restless, a chase it is, round and round,
Humidity at its height...
One returns home, not fresh,
but with a burdened soul!
Reflection of which being…
a swollen face and sunken eyes!

Finishing up the morning chore
heavy as if, would burst open it felt!
Trying to get a grounding connection...
why, it felt nothing at all!

A dagger, as if has been lurking in air
splitting open a galaxy of stars…
And, when you sit in front of totality
blessed to feel the shower of light!

Headache as if, soon it left
9 o’clock as the bell struck!
Believe or don’t believe it at all
faith makes everything possible in now!

Restless the soul, like cuckoo it felt
Alone, all alone, wanted to be left!
Reading a chapter, origin of novel…
Carbon, Kekule and Ouroboros it was
the life in circle it is...
repeating, re-repeating itself!

Deja vu many, when it is in a day
surfing the life, an adventure,
as if soul is through…
Solace it is, to talk to kind souls
Echo, re-echo of some past life
as if has been disclosed!

 As one listens to Beethoven "Solacis..."
Ball dance, a hall, "Bella of Grace"
can be heard...
Alive! Alive it was and surreal...

Round and round she makes the move,
“Ah! Beauty! Here it comes..."
Exclamation in whisper,
felt by soul, deep down!

At evening, a feeling of shock as if washed with
every muscle, every vein split open as if!
What a gory sight to have perceived...
Shrieking, helplessly aloud,
a moment, and everything shut down!

Food as if a far call,
wanting to eat nothing at all…
but when one does, it feels all wrong
better to have lived without it after all!

What are this vision one see
sometimes in galaxy, sometimes in words
dance and mirth, or accident of some sort!
Why isn’t anything new anymore?
Repetition of life, of such grandeur!

Pic Courtesy: Google

Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Letter to a Young Poet:” A Tribute -5

City of Rome he is, as he write
Romanian art he narrates, thus!
Old Summerhouse, quiet and simple
near a large park, away from
din and bustle of city well-known!

As vastness of solitude grows on
don’t settle for sociable unknown!
Solitude, a vast solitude,
necessity of the soul!

To walk within and meet no one
for hours and hours…
Is an attainment for sure!

Solitary one was, as a child
when grown-ups walked around…
Involved and busy with matters
“so large and important!”
Clueless as a child, understanding
of which one had none!

And, in that solitariness when you realize
the activities of grown up being shabby,
 vacation turning petrified
and no longer connected with life…

Then why not look at everything
the way a child would!
Everything around to be unfamiliar
from the depth of your own solitude
a work, status and vacation of its own!

Understanding nothing as a response
for defensiveness and scorn!
Since, not understanding at all
is a “way of being alone.”
Separating yourself from
with which you can’t connect!

Think of the world that one carry inside
calling the thought process, whatever one wants!
A reminiscence of childhood memory
or a yearning of one’s own future
being aware of whatever arises within then!

All that happens in one’s inner realms
deserves complete love that one has!
Work at loving oneself…
explaining nothing and wasting time
on one who call it “attitude,” thus!

All profession the master suggest are demanding
filled with hostility towards the individual.
Saturated with hatred,
mute and sullen in an insipid duty!

 

Truest kinds of life consist of
conventions, prejudices and false ideas!
But, a solitary individual
is placed under the deepest law of the “Things!”

One who, “walks out into the rising dawn,”
or “looks out into the event filled evening…”
and when one feels of all the happening around...
Situation all that have arisen,
drop from him, like a dead man!

Everywhere it is the same
but that should not be the cause for anxiety or sadness
If there is something, you feel you cannot share
Stick to Things: Night, the Wind:
that moves through the trees and across many lands…
For everything in the world of Things
is still filled with happening!

One can still be sad and happy as a child
And, when you think of it, you re-live it again!
If the childhood frighten and torments one
because of its simplicity and silence!
Unable to believe in God, who appears everywhere
Ask then oneself, has the one really lost God
for the possession of him is none!

  

What if he didn’t exist at all
Neither in childhood, nor when you are grown up
Not as Christ, neither as Muhammad
but, someone who would be approaching soon!

One who approaches “from all eternity,”
the ultimate fruit of a tree,
whose leaves we are…
One, who is not be thought in history
but happening in cycle repeating itself
as a new beginning!

Be patient and live without bitterness
Stay glad and confident, and in being!

 Pic Courtesy: Google

Reference:

Letters to a Young Poet - Univ Forum

www.univforum.org/sites/default/files/431_Rilke_poet_1001_ENG.pdf