The Homecoming

The Homecoming

The homecoming

And one day, I stilled this, the mind.

She had kept chattering all day long.

Suddenly, the heart said – stop. It did.

And the music and dance stopped.

 *

But the stars twinkled mischievously

And the moon searched for my song.

The skies knew of the elusive illusions.

And I was still for the universe to fill me.

 *

The wind carried my perfume everywhere.

The stars and moon and sun were happy.

They treasured my song’s seed.

and drank of my dancing cup too.

 *

I did not crave for these delusions of mirth.

How do I tell them of my need?

When infinity and bliss waits for you,

do you need trivialities of frolic and regret?

 *

And I was languishing in my own wait,

for the worlds were waiting for something too.

And I suddenly realised, and gave it up all.

I couldn’t withhold my treasures.

 *

For the universe comes to those,

who trust her with all their faith and love,

and surrender everything else, she has already offered.

For, to the giver, comes the homecoming, the original abode.

 ***

Let me BE.

 

 

 

Let me be led from laziness to purposefulness.

Let me be led from being idle to a being of use.

Let me be led from anger and hatred to being detached.

Let me be led from nonchalance to compassion.

 

Let me share and spread the Love.

Let my life be what it ought to be.

Let me just Be what I have to Be!

          

MY LOVE SONG

MY LOVE SONG

 

Munnar Lake

         

A love song, long-buried in my heart,

manifesting today, celebrated today,

The magic of missing and meeting,

the beloved tomorrow, day after or now,

little realizing you are the song itself.

 

Memories, whistles, glances, smiles,

Like a sweet dream, they play along,

Again and again with the same saccharine ness.

The setting sun and the rippling lake,

could never parallel your beautiful aura.

 

Waiting for you, waiting for you,

little realizing that you are the wait itself.

Will tomorrow come, When will it?

Singing with an empty heart, an empty note,

The love song once sung deeply buried.

 

It is now or never, to find you there,

Where you always are and waiting for me,

To revel in the best days of my life,

Indeed the best is here and now,

To find you where you always are…

 

Oh, I am waiting, yes, I am…

Not knowing you are here with me,

That beautiful future I envision,

Cradled in a bright cocoon in your spirit.

But oh, here you are, when did you come?

         

Heart and Mind

Strange are men’s thoughts,

Strange is God’s guidance,

He gave a mind and,

He gave you a heart.

 

You do your will, you do your wishes,

And blame it on your heart’s say.

Did you forget he gave you a mind,

And sanely intelligence to think?

 

If He was here and saw you rot,

Becoming weak in your will,

Not doing what you are born to,

But beings slaves of desires,

 

He would but remove your heart,

And say, NOW use your mind.

Would you exercise conscious

choice, decision and intellect?

 

And be wise and sensible and sweat

At your tasks, be done with it, and

When you go back home and meet GOD,

See His satisfied smile dancing,

 

That would have made your stay,

At this humble Earthly abode,

Worth all the pains of fulfilled duties, and

Eternally feeling God’s heart in yours.

Serene memories

I write this, but with a sigh,

When in deep contemplation,

And during my serenest times,

Why do I always remember,

My responsibilities, my goals?

 

Arent those moods the ones,

I should enjoy, experience,

With a strong memory of the joy.

Yet, during my bliss,

Nature taps to awaken me.

 

To go back to my work,

To lift the axe again,

To stop being lazy,

And blame it on my heart.

 

I tear myself away from it, my tranquility,

And think if it was worth all the effort?

I love to dream, love to be at peace,

Love my serenity and my memory.

 

But nature has other plans,

She knocks me often,

And wants me to work,

Go back to my duties.

 

Ah, just one more moment,

But just one more sight,

And for eternity I will be content.

And labor with that one memory.

In rarity, beauty lies.

I do not blog as often as I would want to. I do not even blog as often as ideas hit me. I just blog when time permits and I am in the mood. So, it just so happens that my posts can be categorized as rare. But are they beautiful? Well, I would love to think they are though I am not vain and very modest. lol.

Well, seriously!

Kurunji flower blooms once in 12 years

Last week my aunt quoted a Saint’s words, “In rarity, beauty lies.” And most rare things are beautiful, don’t you think so? That got me thinking. Like, the Kurunji flower, which blooms once in twelve years. It is such a beauty that not merely words; only poetry will do justice to it. And then there are diamonds, precious stones, platinum and gold which are all rare and expensive and beautiful, and lend more beauty to beautiful women. Nature, in her non-raped, untouched form is beautiful and nowadays, very rare. Like for instance, late evening sunlight seeping through the leaves lazily, moonlight reflected on a very still lake, first editions of a favorite book – yellowed pages and moth ball smelled, the list could keep on building. Rare and beautiful things are not restricted to highly expensive and remunerative things alone. Beautiful things are more happiness spreading and peace giving.

Lovers uniting after a long hiatus give them an amazing feeling. It is that rare, precious, beautiful instant they yearn for all their lives. So, such is the feeling of beauty. Beauty not only lies in the beholder’s eyes, it lies in the rarity of good things. Perhaps, we may not appreciate the beauty of these wonderful things if it were less rare.

Whenever I experience a beautiful moment, a torrent of thoughts fills my heart and below is the product

                                                                                                              

IN RARITY BEAUTY LIES

                

Groovy dull blue unpolished diamond,

Huge and strewn amidst stones in thousand,

Awaiting shine and sparkle in bounty,

The resplendent evolving to reveal its beauty.

 

Books smelling of moth balls and yellowed pages,

Leather volumes but ending in crinkled edges,

Wisdom, knowledge emanating from the sheets,

Which only the true seekers’ hearts meets.

                                                                         

Blossoms famed for once in a lifetime,

Uncaring about winter or springtime.

Kurunji – yielding in twelve years,

Ravishing the beloved to tears.

                                                                         

Some lovers destined to meet only once,

Carrying throughout life that one fragrance,

That rare instant which holds the beauty,

Of a serene life lived richly and sweetly.

                                                                         

The rare instance from the page of an eon,

Eternal in thought, but physically bygone,

Showing cosmos the exquisiteness of rarity,

But for Nothingness it’s always an eternity.

 

I wish such rare moments cease to be rare and keep showing its facets more often. Would it not be wonderful if the truly beautiful moments get recorded more often in history? Or perhaps, I could pause time and experience eternity in all its magnificence.

The Moon – can I have a piece?

THE MOON – can I have a piece?

 

Can I have a piece of moon, mom?

 

Oh, what for son?

 

I just need a tiny bit,

Maybe a narrow crescent.

I will keep her with me

And when I feel gloomy

I will look at her resplendence

Try to soak her cheer,

And be happy.

 

Would she not feel lonely here with you son?

 

Oh, no, She would not feel so.

I will show her the terra,

The magnificent affairs of our dwell,

That makes our earth glorious.

 

The trees, the bees, the butterflies,

The nectar of the pinkest flowers,

Sweeter than the heavenly rivers.

The woods, the spring, the fishes,

She can visit them all, who envy her beauty,

And be the queen amongst them.

She will be happy.

 

Only a part, just the crescent? Not the full moon?

Son, would she not wonder why she is not wholly here?

 

She will understand.

There are many sonny,

Who are in love with her,

They would all need her too.

 

A piece, a crescent is sufficient,

To keep a lad cheerful.

Not fair to want all of her,

Other men from afar worlds,

With even no moon and powerful sights,

Would want her and envy me too.

So, only a part and I am fair, is for me.

 

Son, she would wonder why you brought her here?

 

The reflections of her sisters, the stars,

On the brook in our backyard,

In the calm of the night when she rises.

Like diamonds scattered around a silver plate,

She will view herself and her companions.

The beauty, unparalleled,

The calm and peace felt only then,

 

And the knowledge will dawn on her,

Of my need to have her with me.

 

Yes, son. I will get you a piece.

 

John Milton’s Err

I often stand and wait to serve, but I never get any reward or appreciation for this kind of service. Perhaps I am not blind.

The above is an example of a 25 word story based on John Milton’s On His Blindness.

SILENT TEARS

SILENT TEARS

 

She was waiting for the deepest, darkest recess of the night,

Far away from the lustrous, pollyannaish and delusive light,

                                                                   

Just a smile, a touch, even a look, she craved,

Alas only gloomy, dismal sensory modals saved.

                                                                   

Her feelings, flavor and emotions falsely gauged,

Enticing chiliad unction and unguent nay assuaged.

                                                                   

Benevolent nox witnessed her silent, soul wrenching, grievous sob,

Having acutely missed the soothing presence of her heartthrob.

                                                                   

Here her presence was demanded for what rationale, what reason?

In our earthly galactic core filled with malicious and colly treason.

                                                                   

Destiny commanded, she tincture the earthy bosom,

With love combined altogether from the macrocosm.

                                                                   

The daughter from afar, Rigel, leaving the motherland,

Orion, solaced herself to infuse warmth, feeling in all lands.

                                                                   

Aye, she will go back, ere dawn-break,

Many worlds, creations, wait for her sake.

Making a decision…

Sometimes, perhaps most times, decisions are so tough to make. This is not me alone. I believe this is a common malady amongst the brethren of humanity. I am reminded of Frost’s poem, “The road not taken” where Frost says he comes across on the road a bifurcation and that he is forced to choose one of the two paths. And he chooses the road least trodden. Every time I read that poem, I keep wondering what really made him do it, other than what is explicitly said in the poem.

The last line says, “That made all the difference”. Yes, very impressive and contemplative, but he never lets us on to what difference it made to him.

And taking decisions which means to follow your heart or trying to realize your dreams is like running away from the safety net. But not taking these decisions and just living the same life and avoiding the decisions perhaps makes no major difference in one’s life. Neither does it have any impact in his efforts to the society or humanity; maybe he is spared the fear of the trotting the unknown road. All the difference that is made amounts to maybe what he encounters in the unknown ways – hidden demons or serene angels.

But dreams always remain that – dreams, if one does not have the courage to take the plunge towards the unknown. Sometimes, yes, most times, some decisions are like a one-way road and you cannot traverse back to undo the decision you took and take the other most trodden path. You just have to live with it and try to like it.

But since man inculcated the power to dream, he also has it latent within him, to realize his dreams in the path he chose even if he faces hidden demons in it.

That is what a great Man once told me.

So, well, I tried to summarize what I felt these past few days and penned them down here. You are welcome to share your comments as always.

DECISIONS

 

When the whole world told,

It’s a wrong decision many fold,

But felt by me as precious as gold.

    

The path to the future diverged,

Two roads for the goal emerged,

Take the most trodden, all urged.

   

But did I not have the choice,

To listen to my inner voice?

Causing many to not rejoice.

   

The frail green grass, least trampled,

Beckoned my heart which so entangled,

Had caused noetism to be dismantled.

   

Deciding to run away from the safety,

Of the most trodden route of the county,

I resolved to plunge into apparently the ghosty.

    

But should anyone doubt the heart’s power?

It’s unfathomable if it can ever make a blunder,

A gift it is, when acknowledge as your lover.

   

So, I am walking, marching, towards my goal,

On the path destined by nature for my soul.

On this day, gratitude to the Almighty,

For showing me the way, a beauty.