why did i lose my way

why did i lose my way
last night
while gathering fallen flowers
under a jasmine bush
was i taken in by the aroma
that refreshed me in the past
or was i beguiled
by the beauty of vanishing vapors
from a cauldron of creativity
was it the desire to escape the boundaries
of beholden beliefs
or a quest of unaccessed secrets
of a deep valley of volitions

into the forbidden space

why should we explore the ground
Maa Kaali
which you decided to consign
to the care of
some snakes and tortoise
who knows
why would they let
some flies come close
some lilies to flower
and some lilies to suppose
the fear of reaching out to unknown meadows
slipping on the moist grass
to fathom the smell of soil
why should we breathe so fast
when the journey is so long
and there is nothing special in reaching early
maa Kaali
will you forgive
all incursions
into the forbidden space
if only to explore the boundaries
of whatever
you claimed
with my voice maimed

no firewood unburnt in the fireplace

there are no traces of amber
no spark
no firewood unburnt in the fireplace
yet you expect fire to warm you in cold wintery night
let fluffy snow pave the way
of those who seek stars
to light the way
so that when they fall down
they are not hurt
the roads are now covered
and i can not find way
to the cremation ground
of all the waves
that escaped
from the ocean
of tears

an exhausted inanity

failed vanity
exhausted inanity
message lost, fire extinguished
the journey is ephemeral
dont search ambers in the ash
warmth is in the eyes
which are going to close now
leaving a trail of tears
dont let them dry
lest the pathways are created
for shadows to creep inside

a coffee less bitter

a hard knock
on failing the test
over and over again
i lost the fire
and no matter how much firewood
i put in the hearth
fire does not get ignited any more
is it your curse for not respecting
the need to fuel the fire i had ignited that day
may be i deserve it
that will make the meditations less wrinkled
coffee less bitter
and perhaps the shadows of the mango tree
less obtrusive
let me live in the shadows
i am extinguished
and ash of smouldering coals
may be gathered
and offered to a river
which has decided to pulverize
all the rocks in its way
shouldn’t it be that way

saw the butterflies again

saw the butterflies again
did not know that they were trapped
in your eyes
and no weeds could have
claimed the right to host them alone
but now they have returned
and i don’t need
”seeds of weeds” any more
i dont think weeds are ever there
to each according to one place under the sun
how can a sprout be ever
out of its place in this world
but butterflies do have their seasons
and reasons
to smile and fly here and there,
i now understand
will they just come
when it pleases them
and go away
when i dont pay attention
thats the way i need to be treated
that is the only way

will you lend a helping hand

will you lend a helping hand
she asked
when i can no longer listen
or learn
remember or forget
will you still be upset
because your towel is not in its place
or handkerchief is not in the bag
but that wouldn’t be possible for me track
are we worth the tasks we do
are we an end
or a means to discover ourselves
i dont know
do you?

let us swallow the poison

peace dawned
when i asked myself
am i searching that immense source of light,
the sun or a sun
swirling madly, may be a bit too
seeking to churn,
hoping that the nectar will emerge
but also poison
who will get what does not matter
let us swallow the poison
lest it reaches some’s hand by chance
who unknowingly may partake it
to realize too late
that nectar is not labelled
it is in abundance
but still we search
the poison
so rare
so scarce
may be that is why

in vain, always in pain

when breaths take hold
of the tether
of tensions
produced by the extended hopes
who uses whom
does not matter
can indeed any one use the being
or the nothingness as is wont
why should we lose faith
and have anxiety
over the fear
that we are a pawn
in the hands of those
who have a big design
to become
what we may not like
leave it
go away
dont stay
a minute longer
whenever the place demands
the freedom to be
what makes us real,
rest is a meaningless journey
in vain,
always in pain

no bridge of breaths

rain does not soak
just like that
one has to absorb
through every pore
the vapours must dissolve all the obstacles
in the way,
once the way is cleared
the soaking begins
but then if boundaries dissolve
one does not know
what was soaked by whom
it is all fluid
no medium
no river
no rain
no bridge of breaths
to be crossed to swim
no raincoat of illusions and beliefs
to prevent soaking