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A Man is Not Easily Made

Men of free will

They think they know

But true intelligence

Stands on the fine edge

Between light and shadow.

 

A man is not easily made.

 

To sink in pleasures

To be drunk with excess

Is like standing

In the midst of sobriety

In a vulgar dress.

 

A man is not easily made.

 

His possessions may give him

An air so select

But value is not

A measure of expenditure

It’s the arc of a discerning intellect.

 

A man is not easily made.

 

Has he learnt the art

Of keeping centred his private mind?

Towards his friends

And towards his foes

Is he equally kind?

 

A man is not easily made.

 

For a man to become

He must know how to be

Measured in appearance

But immeasurable

In depth and potentiality.

 

A man is not easily made.

.

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Value is That Which Remains

To make,

To fashion is

To give appearance

To that which had existence

But not a life.

 

To make or fashion

A thing,

Is to simultaneously

Make or fashion

The maker.

 

The made

Is like the born

It will live amongst us

And alter our lives

In some or the other way.

 

The made

And the maker

Are of value

Not for the profits they supply

But for the stories they create.

 

Because when the made

And their makers are gone

All that is left behind

Is the memory

Of how things were.

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A Walk Down Memory Lane

When we walked

Down Memory Lane

We travelled back in time…

We relived in our minds

Those moments

That we had left behind.

 

Memories fill you up…

The present, vis-à-vis

Stands before you

As an emptiness

Your time was shared

And in that sharing love grew…

 

But remembering

Is a solitary thing…

Your ‘now’ challenges

Who you claim to be

It reminds you about

All that you’ve lost to time…

 

Your temporariness

Is hard to deal with

The weight of the present

Displaces your past…

You’ve left behind all

That promised to belong to you.

 

Yet you continue

To hold on to-

The sounds, the smells, the voices,

The laughter, the events, the sentiment…

All that was; none that is

Except in the echoes down Memory Lane.

.

 

 

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The Travesty of Partial Truths

Thoughts like turbulences

Are pure feeling.

They often lack the language

And the voice to express

Their agitation.

 

Your reasoning

Doesn’t pacify them.

On the contrary,

It renders them as

Absurdities and incongruities.

 

To belittle something

As primal as feeling

Is to be arrogant

Of a contrived knowledge

It is to be disinterested in the truth.

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Beauty Beholds

To see beauty

Is to awaken

To all that is.

 

Beauty is not

A matter of judgement

But of absorption.

 

After all,

You cannot seize something

That grips you.

 

In the presence of beauty

The mind is silenced;

At her altar, all the senses kneel.

 

You stand there-

Feeling privileged,

Feeling blessed.

 

She won’t be spoken to;

There’s nothing

That you can say to her.

 

Silence becomes

The expression of your awe

And wonder.

 

Your words

Can’t describe her

For she is pure essence.

 

Not this, not that

Not this way

Not that way.

 

She can’t be drawn

Or designed

Or sculpted.

 

You can find her

Only when

You are immersed in her.

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Know What Is Your Own

Life will, sooner or later

Bring you face-to-face

With your own disdain.

Your prejudices will stand

Before you in the mirror

You’ll come to see

You are all that

You had once disowned.

 

You’re afraid-

Now that you can see it-

That you stand exposed;

And minimized.

Before you can get others

To accept you with this ‘flaw’

How do you go about

Accepting yourself?

 

When you reject another

You also reject yourself.

Life is disinterested

In your distinction and

In your individuality

But tune yourself to the world

Stand not in judgement, but in harmony

And you will be revealed to yourself.

 

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Come To Know Me Again

Can you at least try

To see me differently?

Can you go past

Your knowledge and your assumptions?

What you know

Has outlived its time

Your growing disdain and disagreement

Is an indication of

How out of sync you are

With the now.

 

Leave behind what you know

And become a stranger to me once again.

Let life unfold afresh

Leave behind memories

Of blossoms that were…

Time has changed me

I stand renewed and reborn

A new bloom in a new season.

Allow me to reintroduce myself

Come to know me again.

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Are You Ready for Departure?

Have you emptied your mind

Of all resentments and grudges

And offered it at the altar

Of an ever-present love

That has the heart-space

To let thoughts of all textures be?

 

Have you risen from the feeling of paucity and need;

Reclaimed your inheritance of abundance

And come to the realization

That your blessings far exceed your need;

Have you come to see

That to give is the only way to live?

 

Have you let go of all expectations

That external change

Must be ordered by your efforts

And instead re-directed

Your attention and work

Towards re-aligning yourself?

 

Have you understood

That you will not live forever

And that you are life’s guest;

A pilgrim on a journey…

Have you found as yet

What you are here to seek?

 

Have you embraced both

Strength and vulnerability

Gain and loss

Success and failure

Pleasure and pain

Requital and rejection?

 

Are you ready for your onward journey?

Have you packed in your magic-

That special power that life decorated you with?

That incredible ability to convert

Darkness to light; experience to wisdom and

Apprehension to love.

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When You Leave

When you leave…

Leave behind that part

Of yourself for me,

That was larger than

What photographs have captured;

Of greater dimensions than your physique-

Leave me with your immensities…

 

When you leave…

Allow me to move on

With the stories

Of your human-ness

So that I may

In my loss and vulnerability

Stand re-acquainted with my own…

 

When you leave…

Leave the door open

So that I can find you

In a space free of walls

And manufactured distances

Meet with me there…

Let’s get to know each other again.

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Cancelled

To be cancelled

Means to be denied existence…

To be deprived

Of the thrust of life…

To have something else

Chosen over that

Which could’ve been…

 

Cancellations

Are an act of fate;

Of circumstances beyond

What one is prepared for…

Like unexpected death

Cancellations can be painful;

Severed as they stand from intent.

 

Cancellations are life lessons

Through them you learn

That your plans

Can only take you so far

That life, like poetry

May only be expressed in a rhythm;

But you cannot guarantee a rhyme.