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Rain As Metaphor For Creativity

Creativity is born

Out of intensity-

A cloud that is dark,

Dense and laden

With the wetness

Of life on earth.

Unable to contain itself

For too long

It expresses all that it has absorbed

And as it falls in abundance

Unmeasured, uncalibrated

It quenches the thirst

Of all longing.

It dissolves all certainty

Through glass

That promised clear vision

You can only see the world

As an abstraction of colour and mist.

 

Ssshhh… watch silently…

A fashion designer is at work…

That moment that was a vacuum

That could only be filled

With inspiration

Now undergoes transformation

Soon the earth

Will stand fashioned

In a rich green velvet

The body will sparkle

With sequin-like waterdrops

On flowers that smile joyously.

All life will be rejuvenated

And a new romance

Will fill the air…

The rain cloud teaches:

Absorb from life

But abide in vastness

And when the heat gets unbearable

Hide the sun

Take away certainty

Descend on life

And touch it

Show life what it can be.

 

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The Hour

It was the hour

That passed too quickly

A lifetime of happy memories

Were contained and lived.

 

It was the hour

That was most painful

A lifetime of ache

Was felt and endured.

 

It was the hour

That moved too slowly

I waited and waited…

It seemed like eternity.

 

It’s always the hour…

And its fragility and uncertainty

That needs to be handled

With attention and care.

 

Sometimes a wall

Sometimes a window…

The hour needs to be understood

In order to be freed.

 

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The Question

Of what purpose

A new day…?

What is its lesson?

Must I let go

Of the battles

I heroically began?

Or

Must I stretch them

For credibility?

 

In what lies the goodness

That I’m trying to learn

From life?

 

I intuit that the presence

Of a new day

Holds answers

To my questions

That my ignorance

Of who I am, what should I do

And how should I be

Can be transformed

To enlightenment

 

If silent totality, omnipresence and eternity

Are the answers

What must my question be?

 

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Companionship

Walk with me

At dawn and dusk

So that I may

Have your company

While experiencing

The enchantments of existence-

The sights, the sounds, the smells…the streets.

 

That company is the best

That allows for

A private enjoyment

Of air and hour

Great company restores you

Time is once again yours

To simply be.

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On Its Own Terms

Why is it that

my thoughts don’t

converse with my silence…

They assume it’s a void

that must be filled

with ideas that

seem intelligent.

But silence is a completeness

that deserves the respect

one would accord

to the highest intelligence

Silence must be observed…

It must be met

on its own terms.

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Pretence, Purpose and Poetry

The moments that exist

Between those islands of forgetfulness

When you live like you are somebody

With something to do-

Is the ocean of eternity that surrounds you.

 

You are part of its immensity

But prefer to be more relatable

As a name…an entity…a person

Who will surrender readily to a little love

And the promise of an elusive bliss.

 

Our pretensions of personality,

Our cultivation of purpose

And the poetic expressions of our angst-

Keep us forever entangled

In the question of, ‘who we essentially are…’

 

Perhaps that question is pointless

When addressed to an existence that just is

A oneness with no exception.

Your poetry is a monologue…

Who you’re not is speaking with who you are.

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Life’s True Calling

Life, that is ever free

Becomes imprisoned within

The walls of the human mind.

Ego, attachment, desire and fear

Do not allow it to move freely…

To come and go-

Without being subject to

Ownership, design, desire…

And moral confusion.

We trap life.

We want it to serve

Our limited sense of self.

But life that is creative and ever new

Will have nothing to do with our staleness.

Itself, free of the past

And open to the future;

Without memory and desire,

It uses time and the illusion of persistence

To create the conditions

By which we come to desire

Our own end.

Can we learn

To meet life with pure presence?

Can we come to see

That the treadmill of the mind

Is not life?

That it has no name,

No designation, no agenda

No attachments, no conditions

That your wish

May be its command,

But not its true calling.

 

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Undisturbed

Do not be intimidated by a blow.

Do not be crippled by doubt.

Do not lose your faith

In the face of obstacles.

Do not hand over

Your courage to fear.

Do not break up with truth

To accommodate a lie.

Do not let opinions

Douse your spark.

 

Forgoing your essence

Is not a virtue;

It’s a weakness.

Immorality proceeds

From our forgetting

That we are protected by a reality

That stands over and above appearances;

And that stands outside the bounds of

Perception, emotion and intelligence.

Stay intact. Stay whole. Stay undisturbed.

 

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No Leftovers

That which I need most

Is unavailable to me

Not because of someone else’s

Carelessness or lack of love

But ironically,

Because of my own.

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Innate

Happiness

Wealth and

Power

 

Are innate

 

They cannot be acquired from the world.

They are hidden in three capacities

Within you:

 

Dedication

Sacrifice and

Service.