Chosen

And she

Whose partnership with life
Spanned perhaps a single batch of seasons
Within in a circle
Selflessly offered her most precious belonging
Through Love
Into the folds
Of the Divine Blanket of Light
Considered it spent
In sacrifice
As if entirely on loan
In the purest, most ultimate attempt to teach
Of the limitless strength
Welled deep within the Spirit
To be recognized
Developed
And drawn
The way liquid fills a straw
When one attempts to drink
Filling the vacuum
Comprising the pain and shadow darkness
And restoring a semblance of acceptance
No matter how frail
To build upon.

Let not this experience
Steal your faith in Love
Your stronghold on the Path of Providence
Let it not snatch your will to feel
Pleasure or pain
And leave behind your senses.
Carry no burden
Of this incomprehensible loss
But allow for your Soul to breathe in
Its meaning and purpose.
It is not a punishment
But the strongest opportunity
Brought about by the most tremendous of Souls
Surrendering her breath
To demonstrate he lesson
Insuring your growth into the Light
And decanting the truth
Through the most supreme of promises
Dealt to you all
Along your journey.

You were rich for her presence then
For her life was solely for you
And her radiant glow continues to burn
Igniting your strength
With the stamina of understanding
Illuminating your road ahead
And enriching your Soul
The way only she could
The reason for which she was Chosen.

Life Is Lived

It is possibly the whirl

Of the seasons and the tides

Of rain and shine

Of waxing and waning

And circles within the mind

That shelter us

From the parallel to life

Its pair and opposite.

It is perhaps growing accustomed

To witnessing cycles and loops

Of each day and its reverse

That throws us into conundrum

When a halt appears.

No need for thought

No need for words

No use for desire

No use for change

Holding no purpose

For fire and cold

For the wind and sun

For the senses

For the shell,

The tangible and intangible

All are but the same now

Existing on a non-existent plane.

No use for breath

For time

For space,

That too

Falls in the same pocket.

Perhaps it is the permanence of death

Which is what stuns.

It drains the sense

And reason

From the self

Because dipping the pen in this ink

Once

Paints everything black

Blank

Into the endless.

But this is not an opportunity to crumble

Drenching yourself with despair

With unbent reason

With the distress of sorrow

With insane grief.

No.

This position is a farce

As untrue as a night with sun

And a breath without air,

Because you never truly leave

You were here once

And will be beyond

Translating death, in fact, to be

Nothing.

Death is not an end

It is simply a pause

Realized or unrealized

Rolling out its red carpet

Before the Soul begins to beat again.

Estranged from Life

But only for a moment

The Soul repletes

To be reinstated

And sanctioned

Into the living.

This state is not to be mourned

It is to be rejoiced and honoured

For a life dwells on through its life

Each second spent

Replenished

And cherished.

You live on through the photographs of the memories in each mind

Cradled within the Unseen Eye

Each frame of each breath

Now a treasure

And pleasure

To perceive.

You persist and subsist

Through the sheen of your sparkle

Your verve

Vivacity

Resplendent with each heartbeat

Shared with each Soul.

Animate

And shimmering

Your life sings

As it is born each day

Shining as the sun shines

Upon a deep blue sky.

No force

No matter how dense

Can consolidate life into a box

And conceal it

Behind the wings of unliving.

Life is lived.

It is cherished

And smothered with passion

And breathed

And relished

And delighted in.

Infinitely.

Nothing can take that away.

Tears Of A Child

No dont let him cry
This Angel of a boy
Whose complexion of love is so pure
Untarnished
By judgement
By reason
Unconditional.

Dont let him cry
And shed those drops in pain
When the cause is irrelevant
To his comprehension
And his lament.

The mirror of his Soul is so clean
No dusty layer
Of experience
Of mistakes
Of regrets
Of shame.
Not yet.
Let him be in this state
Vacant
In blissful being
And unburdened
Before Time wings him away
And his eyes begin to reflect another story.

Let him rest
As he does now
Upon his Grandfathers shoulder
Pressed against his chest
Cradled in his arms
Witnessing a heartbeat
And considering it an unspoken miracle.
Let him sink
Into the love of this man
That holds him
As he grips the sleeve of his Grandfathers shirt
In his most tiny fist
And feels love through this inanimate thing
As though it shares a connection to the heartbeat.

Let him breathe
Unpressured
Unsaddled
Allowing him to believe each breath
Will link him to each moment
Unexplained
Unrestricted.

Let him rest
And not be pulled into the vortex of understanding
Of reason
Now is not the time
For now, he is innocent in his innocence
Stripped of fault
And the guilt that accompanies it.

Let him just be
Awake in existence
Leaving interpretation to the winds

Let there be no reason
For tears of a child.

Timely Untimely

What if you could mix up Time?
And live your Present in the Past?
Would you wander through the Future a while
And live your Past last?

Could the Past translate into the Future
Into the Present and back to the Past?
Would you move back from the Past or ahead from the Future
And filter the Present unasked?

Would you dive in & out through the tunnels of Time
And change what you didn’t like?
Your fights with Mom, your school, your boss
And date Steve instead of Mike?

Would you marry 5 times and live out each life
Just for fun, then return to the start?
Or would you age younger, from 40 to 20
Then loop it, 6 months apart?

Would you visit the Greats, the Legends of Ago
Be they Sportsman, Musician or King?
Or would you step ahead to see who’s next
Who’ll rule, play or sing?

Would you change your profession and visit reunions
Each time with a different history?
Would you change your hairstyle the moment it’s cut
And do the same with your whiskery?

How many times would you change your choices?
Would you even choose to die?
Would you hop, skip and jump through Time for all time?
And never let Time just go by?

Would you ever live with one decision you’ve made
And live with it unaltered?
Or would you rewind the good times and fast forward the pain
And smudge out the times you faltered?

How many lives would you live in one life?
Would life even be complete?
Would years, months or seconds even mean anything now?
Would age become obsolete?

It would be amusing if you traversed alone
But what if everyone learned to travel?
Whose Present would affect whose Future or Past?
How then would Time unravel?

There would be no system, there’d be only chaos
Like a washing machine, only stranger
What once was, would change with each person
A castle could become a manger

What is up, would be sideways, and sideways would be down
What would Life be in a world so suspended?
You’d never know anything for sure, if it’s real
Or how it began, developed or ended

You would never learn the lessons of Time
You would never truly Live
Because this would be a selfish life
Like give & take, without the give

You may not get older, like Dorian Gray
But ageing will always be different from growing
You think you can outsmart Time in Its game
But presuming is always different from knowing

You’ll never know what True Joy is
An experience of ‘Just One Time’
Because ‘One’ is what Time really is
Past – Present – Future sublime.

[Written: 3:30 am, 28th June 2009]

Red Rose

Quietly the moon rays touched the Earth in a cool embrace
Seeping through the tree leaves
All was still
Even the water of the lake
The lake at the center of this Paradise
The surface was as though frozen
But within the soul of this water body
Was churning, thrashing, screaming
As if one was was trying to escape
Trying to look for a way out
In the still of the night.
There was the silence of a graveyard here
But the silence was filled with the pain of all suffering
The trees and the lake knew the joy of the sunshine
But come the night, and the dark drinks its way in
Seeping through their every pore
To fill them with an emptiness
No one hears their screams
As they never escape them
A stony presence encompasses the vicinity
Like an erie light within the moonlight
The trees lose their sanity in their fear
The lake pulls herself in, as if to protect herself
The stillness of the night slowly strangles them
How they wish to move, to scream, to escape
But fear engulfs them
And they shiver not
Nor utter a whisper
They become paranoid in their gloom
But there's an answer
To their black and white story
Where the Red Rose
The mellow and sliken Red Rose
Whose subtle bloom one night
Spreads her fragrance throughout
The trees and the lake allow it to sheathe them
And breathe like they never did before
Smiling, happy
Content
They realize the false life in their dread
And emerge in the scent of the Red Rose
Stronger and alive
And they denounce their trepidation as they would a pest
And learn to live through the incorruptible beauty of their life
As does the tender Red Rose
In all its magnificent glory.

[Written: 1:10 am, 20th June 2006]