It’s not really death
That deprives us of our chances in life…
It is our own desires.
Fulfilment is what we seek
Satisfaction is what we pursue
And gratification is what we settle with.
Our time becomes a commodity
That we trade
To acquire the means to happiness.
Our relationships become transactional
Wherein we foolishly mistake
The means to be our end.
Our lives get entangled in a pointless conflict.
How can our death be a celebration
When our lives are not?
You’re out of sync…
In disharmony with life
When you begin
To see it as ‘yours’.
Your expectations grow
Ambition takes over
Your hopes and prayers
Get oriented towards control…
Life and its circumstances
Must favour you.
Accomplishment becomes your purpose
Love becomes an acquisition
You feel entitled to privilege
And wealth becomes the hub
Around which these revolve.
That which is abundant-
Life- forever giving
Becomes something you perversely
Try to steal for yourself.
When you fail to see the truth
You cling to law, ethics and codes of conduct.
Your education too
Gets appropriated.
It becomes subservient to mediocrity
It remains satisfied in meeting
Systemic objectives.
You graduate in degrees of ignorance
Forever in pursuit
Of the illusory.
Racing through your days
To the finish line.
But then comes a dawn
When accomplishment feels like failure
All acquisitions become soul-destroying
You’re unceremoniously stripped off
Your sense of entitlement.
The notions around which
Your life was anchored
Get swept away
By the currents of time.
Nothing lasts…
Except life.
The tragedy is not death
The tragedy is life not understood.
Even though
I tended to my plants
With unfailing care
They still withered
And died
Too soon.
Nevertheless
New life sprouted quickly and
Once again life bloomed.
Death, I learned
Is not the end of life
But its release.
So, mourn not my end
For what will end
Was never life.
A wise soul once said:
“You’re never more alive
Than when you’re dead.”
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.
Sit still
Watch…
As the tree and its leaves
Dance to the choreography
Of the wind.
Sit still
Listen…
And the hum of life-
The sound of its exchanges
Will fill up all of space.
Sit still
Just be…
And thoughts and memories
Will fall into the deep
Ocean of your mind.
Life is both
Presence and movement;
And movement,
I’ve come to see
Is the imagination of stillness.
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 