Ever wonder how repetitive
life really is in its full glory?
From the comfortable point of status quo,
we make hops of all kinds,
whilst holding on to our 'origins', that, in turn –
must hold us captive right in the status quo
We venture afar, and we do grow,
as we comb the fields of existence
for magic grains that we could sow
to cherish the harvest forever,
whilst the wise tell us that 'time' and 'now'
are illusions merely passing us by!
We weave the flax of fantasy
and call it a dream of reality;
we breathe-in the breeze of freedom
as our spiritual essence writhes in its mortal jail.
We close our eyes for a moment of repose,
and darkness re-claims yet again, our soul
The night may seem cruel,
purposeless and so scary
But, what good would be the dawn
that rises not from the bleakness,
of an all-enveloping darkness?
Don't knock that 'origin' that you still hold on to ...
status quo may not sound great, but it is there daily, to
see and touch
Words sweet and plenty
are but wisps of breath,
dying to break out of their own prisons,
in garbs of feigned sincerity
I mock not their reason-to-be
for freedom is what all seek continually.
Promises of a golden world diaphanous
woven by spiders of desire.
Poor innocence – got crushed, again,
under wheels answering to the name of trust.
I see glimmers round the corner though,
to be cherished erst bitterness mellow
Minutes after what could have destroyed me
my core within rejoices
I emerge weak, but alive
Teary eyes of friends who really cared
watching helplessly as I collect
myself and pieces of mine that fell afar.
Growth begins, as the soul again ...
