Illusion

The towering vision of the little purple flower,
The humble ant's illusion.
The deep shadow under the bright sun,
The shady tree's illusion.
The glistening portrait on soft waters,
The onlooker's illusion.
Rushing rains like sweats from tired skies,
The clouds illusion.
Swarming smoke from agitated fire,
The dead log's illusion.
Diamond dews on tiny green blades,
The early dawn's illusion.
Mellowing Music from the noble flute,
The wishful wind's illusion.
Too true to seem false or are they reality turned inside out?
Illusions they are, of the limited
Impressions they are, of what is.
Alluring or alarming, expressions they are
Of the way they are.
The way you and I are.
An illusion?

Reds and Greys

We often go through repeated cycles and if we are observant enough to see them happening, we could have a weird laugh at our actions. Every damn head thinks but isn't it incredible to know that there could be billions of degrees of thoughts?
The simplest to the complicated, breath the same yet are individually different. The sensible ones celebrate the differences while the rest separate. The charming old or the spectacular new, the bubbly brooks or the stagnant pool, an ounce of judgement can prove to be a messy leak on a classy painting. Isn't this what most of us do with people?
Here's the big deal. The greys are often looked down at with a whole lot of inhibition. The reds are glorified. If we all could look at things and people the way they are, then we would have crowded associations celebrating rather than focussed laughter sessions. We would have warmer homes than colder hearts at rehabilitation centres. We would not see sign boards of requests or fleeting messages pleading for support.
Let the green be, the yellow charm, the pink play, the blue boast, the violet woo, the grey grump, the white warm, the red reign, the black blind or the orange overwhelm. Vibrance is a collage of these and it is this harmony that adds life to LIFE..that makes me and you, US. It's about the symphony after all whether you pick a violin or a saxophone. All that matters is that you play and not just run away.
Reds or greys, do they even matter? They do when you just see them together. Why paint one? Paint them all. You will be a masterpiece.

When?

Moment to moment keeping alive,
With the constant unheard breaths I take.
Pain paused me by, to listen.
Far beyond was I, in a lamenting world of mine.
Thoughts whacking all the while
I moved as a snail holding its unseen shell of sighs.
Pushing myself one gear up with every second step
While the third pulls itself to a heavy halt.
Wondrous souls' chants ringing like temple bells
Wound my within and  gets lost when without.
The wish to see the angel's miracle and the want to turn deaf to the demon's call,
Interlocked like two serpents in unison.
Separate they don't, until under will.
I behold all as a witness to a story that unfolds itself with the next second.
Know not I the sight that waits
The breath I wish, I sense, see, feel like never before.
The miracle of oneness with the one that's lost
The glory of unspoken words when revealed
Can you drown in there?
And rise like a shooting fountain
To a destination that decides the next plunge
The fall this time, a heavenly dive and not a horrendous punch.

God, can you just get back to me asap?

Hey there,
It's been a while since I have simply talked to you. People pray so much to you. You must be kind of sick listening to them 24/7, right? Know what, I used to only talk to you or simply wanting to experience your existence. Somehow down the line, while we were supposedly walking together, you seem to have kind of vanished. Busy with many folks you must be. You put me with other people in your own silent style and I went on. Your beautiful creations were constant reminders of your classy taste and passion. I smiled.
You had poured into me the nectar of love and care when you passed me on to my moms womb. I grew on it and with it fortunately. You certainly didn't like it when I kept it to myself. Some relished it, most of them, I guess, but it turned some hearts cold, much to my surprise. Why does the giver feel the numbness at such times? You never prepared me for that. Let me tell you, its not easy at all. I tried to get in touch with you so much through tear mails and silence messages. You seemed to be unresponsive just like the cold hearts.
I wonder why. Is it because you are angry with me? I am not super powerful like you..OK? But you don't have to shove in your ego at me either. :-(.
I agree the damn terrorists were hanging around in all territories. All I did was use your secret weapon even at them. They did not fight. They ran away. I did mail my prayers then. I did receive  acknowledgement reports. The numbness keeps hitting and hurting. You seem to be just like " there's nothing I have to do about it" types. Hey, correct me if I am wrong. Where the heck are you now? This hide and seek game is getting harder coz my heart is turning colder. Are you listening?
It's your super power that can do what's got to be done else you are going to be troubled..;-) sweet threats.. Ah..you have seen millions of them.
This is my call in a long while and its on the answering machine. Hope you listen to me now because if the nectar turns hard and sour, I might not be able to do all this again.
You are about joy isn't it? Don't put me on hold now. I have done that enough. Looking forward to hear from you soon.
Loads of love always,
Me.

The Martyr

Puffed with pride.
That's a quality for the present youth to imbibe.
Flowers I did not place
Candles I did not light
The fire of their bravery in my heart I did kindle
Forever will never dwindle.
The shining symbols on their raiment of pride
look humble when into the darkness of death they dive.
Not once does the tricolour pride flutter
As these men of matter never falter
Martyrs they would choose to be
than to flee or plead.
Life and death both a passion
Farsighted or focussed, its just one, the nation.

Drawn and withdrawn

Not a passage left uncrossed

In the plan of the treasure trove hunt

My shadow walked behind many a hundred signs.

Swelled with pride and stung by might

Toes did not tip as constantly awakened by sharpened eyes.

The magic of the trove often miraged 

At some weird wink or a sinking sigh

Sometimes skies shined while the sun kissed goodbye

The feet went by all these sights.

Brimmed by burning desire to plunge into the unknown

And swept away by the winds of change

I crumbled like the rock down the landslide

Only to find myself afloat a fuming tide.

It rocked me off to a gentle sleep..

Into a dream of the golden light

Drawn to it like the fireflies

And withdrawn from the rest behind.

Know I not when I will see

The golden gate whenever maybe..

Why

We hold on to someone's thoughts because that's the only way you can be with them..the only place where they still exist for you..the only reason why you can't let go...the only reason why you hate memories too..because memories make meaning only when you get to share with those in them..the only way is to always be there for the ones you care for...