A Poet's Realisation

A great poet lies deep within every heart,
Waiting for that special 'rain day' to open its door.
And as he comes out breaking the chains of restlessness,
He resembles the genie that never tires.

And what a realization!
An year ago, I despised a few and liked a few.
Now I have no distinction.
Everything is like that 'rainy day' filled with beauty and bliss.

The dusk and the dawn, the dead and the alive, the dew drop and the blue ocean,
The war and the peace, the wrinkles and the smooth and slippery, You and me.
The poet hardly finds any difference,
Immersed in that state of blissfulness where words flow like a gentle stream.

I know the 'real journey' has only just begun.
The flight to the Oneness guided by the pure and transparent words,
Is all joy and ecstasy increasing at every step further.
Finally when I reached It, the words just wouldn't come to me.
I have for the first time realised my inability and also the vanity in describing It.

Under The Sky

I felt like a king as I slept under the sky,
Watching its vastness that couldn't be captured in one sight.
And yet, a minuscule is only what I could see after all the attempts.
Stretching far behind the horizons; lied majority of it vastness.

It reminded me of the vastness within.
The energy and the potential I have known,
Is but a tiny speck of the mammoth that lay buried.

This world has seen countless men, that have enriched its thoughts;
And yet they are a small part of the countless others unheard of;
That were as humble as the Mother Earth, complaining of nothing;
Who have seen order and symmetry in such vastness.

Love Without Any Reservation

"A straight line, infinitely projected must end in a circle. I may remark that this idea explains the ethical theory that you must not hate, and must love. Because, just as in the case of electricity the modern theory is that the power leaves the dynamo and completes the circle back to the dynamo, so with hate and love; they must come back to the source. Therefore do not hate anybody, because that hatred which comes out from you, must, in the long run, come back to you. If you love, that love will come back to you, completing the circle. It is as certain as can be, that every bit of hatred that goes out of the heart of a man comes back to him in full force, nothing can stop it; similarly every impulse of love comes back to him."

Swami Vivekananda

Beyond and After

Words can convey only that much and then silence takes over.
Work can accomplish that much and then prayer takes over.
Science can reason only that much and then comes God.

Work

Work selflessly so that it benefits your own self.
Work untiringly remembering that a day will come when you must retire.
Work anonymously so that one day the world looks back at you.
Work with passion that teaches to look at things with equanimity.
Work with love untill that love becomes overwhelmingly large and you can work no more.
Work to remain not to work.

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Giants have walked upon this earth moving mountains.
And yet there is still lot of work to do.
How sorrow would have been my plight had there been no work.
How sorrow it would have been if those great souls accomplished everything.
It is He who creates work for me because He loves me.

Winning The War

In the midst of the fiercest battle of Bhairavi,
Karthikeya, the king, moved like fluid,
Cutting across the enemies battalion swiftly.
Resolute power and the lightening speed of his sword were always feared about.

The final moments have come as he faced his arch rival,
At a sword's distance, breathing fire and eager to pounce on him any moment.
Karthikeya thought this woud be his last battle if he lost or even otherwise.
He won the intense battle but a more intense one stayed within.

People awaited eagerly for their's king return.
Finally as he arrived from the west,
The evening sun beneath the thin grey cloud appeared like a majestic halo,
That formed the pictersque background to his victory parade.

Celebrations continued for another week,
The last day of which witnessed a dramatic turn.
Kartikeya handed over his royal sword to Manikanta, his nephew,
On which were the inscriptions: Protector of the People.

To him he said, "To earn something is difficult.
To give away that is more difficult. I have won both the wars."
Karthikeya smiled knowing well that Manikanta was puzzled and added,
"All that is earned is always an obstacle." Manikanta was more puzzled.

Twenty years later Manikanta dropped his sword into the sheath tied to his waist.
Few hours later, he knew, it would ruthlessely cut the throats of the people,
People much like his own, if any the differences were meaningless.
He clearly saw the irony: for some he won the freedom, for several others it ended.

The kingdom was the last obstacle that prevented him,
From embracing the larger kingdom of humanity.
He remembered Kartikeya's words and clearly saw what he meant.
His duty beckoned him as he sped away to the battlefield.
But he knew he has more than one battle at hand.

The Eternal Journey

There you come and go every day & night,
Oh Sun & Moon, lighting the sky with thy might and grace.
I wonder have you, but once, stopped for a while.
Just for a moment, to look back and see the distance you have covered.

A bigger purpose must be at the back of your mind,
For what else would explain thine eternal journey.
Here I lay surfing over the waves of my thoughts,
What could be the purpose that drives you every day & night.

Let me not rest, just like you, till mine is done.
Perhaps this is exactly why you come every day & night,
To make us realise that we are here to move,
To make us realise our own dreams.

This body shall disintegrate even if it works or not.
Let it disintegrate as I choose to work,
Till I can no longer see the rising Sun.
And then I shall know, immersed in the eternal peace, mine is done.

Oh Infinite

You are mysterious; beyond the comprehension of humand mind,
Yet everyone likes to talk about You.

You are kind granting every wish asked for,
Yet You remain the same.

You are the powerful, all else is Your creation,
Yet are so loving.

You are all incusive manifested in everything in the space,
Yet You are not that.

Salutations to You, Oh Infinite. Salutations to You.
The most beautiful, the mention of whom stirs the body and mind,
Salutations to You, Oh Infinite. Salutations to You.

'I' am the Soul

If 'I' am the Soul, what need I have of the clothes.
Is not 'I' covered by the skin!

If 'I' am the Soul, what need I have of the food.
Did 'I' ever cry of hunger or celebrate after the sumptous feast?

If 'I' am the Soul, what need I have of the education.
What is that 'I' doesn't know about?

If 'I' am the Soul, what need I have to care about the good and the bad.
For when did 'I' learn to differentiate.

'I' am the Soul, 'I' am the Soul,
Dancing in the glory of Thy name,
Unmindul of all but Thee, but Thee.