Posted on by solangesuri2015

Be Discreet

Be discreet

About your feelings

Not everyone is connected with you.

 

Be discreet

About your opinions

They may belittle someone’s cherished values.

 

Be discreet

About sharing your joys

Not everyone has the heart-space to accommodate them.

 

Be discreet

About your wins

They may make someone feel like a loser.

 

Be discreet

About your losses.

They may allow someone to exploit your vulnerabilities.

 

Be discreet

About your power

Its potency is lost on exposure.

 

Be discreet

About your world…

Because you don’t live in it; it lives within you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on by solangesuri2015

#Ten Year Challenge

It’s never too late…

Nor too early

To review your actions

And set them on a course

Of a meaningful life

Meaningfulness…

Is conscious and purposeful living

Where your actions

Are a Systematic Investment Plan

That will yield a freedom

That is whole, independent

Fearless and courageous

Full of faith and confident

Cheerful and kind.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

It’s a Zero-sum Game

Celebrate gain if you must

But remember that

It’s but a shadow…

An indication

Of a loss coming.

 

Partiality is man’s hope from cleverness

But existence is always whole

Intelligence will get you what you want

But your wisdom will reveal

That it was never your need.

 

What an amazing thing to learn from life…

That neither gain nor loss

Can be a measure of your worth

Because they are two sides

Of the same coin.

 

They don’t add up

They don’t take away…

Their fifty-fifty chances

Are nothing more than

A zero-sum game.

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The Ritual

Our everyday has become

A joyous never-ceasing

Repetition of the same pattern.

 

We wake up

At different timings

Me before you

 

And in the strange assurance of that

I’ve noticed

You sleep even more soundly.

 

That makes me smile

I tread over the cold floors of our room

Softly, so as not to disturb your snooze.

 

You sleep through

My repeated opening and shutting of doors

Of packing my bags…

 

And then sleepily

Grip my hand

And give me your cheek

 

For that seal of a kiss

Knowing well that even as I’m leaving the house

I’m not leaving us…

 

That’s the great thing about patterns

They work in sync, symphony

And revel in simple predictability.

 

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Irony

Life is a mystery…

And that is the cliché

I use to describe

My confounding experience of it.

 

That’s the irony

Of life

That I depend on the dead

To help me understand the living…

 

What if I gave up this strife…?

Would my not-knowing

Be any less

Than it is now?

 

I’m beginning to see

How acceptance

Is moral and complete

And how it immediately harmonizes…

 

Perhaps there’s wisdom and beauty

In dwelling in the silence

And not soliciting the overused

To speak about it.

 

When things can be said

How much more eloquent

Would it be

To not say them.

 

Posted on by solangesuri2015

A Drawing in Still Waters

What is a poem

If not a reflection

Of the mystery of my being

 

How can I claim authorship

Or even meaningful intent

When my own existence is

Like a drawing in still waters.

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Knowledge is Faith

The only thing I know for certain

Is that I’m a partial being.

 

I fly with one wing

And yet a higher knowledge

Tells me that

Such a thing is impossible…

 

Then why can’t I see or feel

My other wing?

 

What else

Does this higher knowledge know?

How do I come to know

What it knows?

 

Why am I numb

To its existence?

 

I contemplate this Higher Knowledge

And I come to see Silence…

Words lose their voice

Their sounds dim into the distance.

 

I stand detached, dismembered

From the thoughts that were my breath

 

I now understand

That it’s their charm

I must reject

And their stories I must exit

 

I must do this knowingly

In the faith that I have another wing…

 

I will continue to fly.

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The Elite

I live in a mental asylum

With shadows for company

So powerful are my shadow-friends

That they’ve erected the walls

Of my asylum

For their existence

 

In its confinement

I yearn for friendship and company

Even if it is of the Unreal

The shadows beckon me to listen

Their amorphous forms speak in booming voices

That echo and resonate.

 

Their thoughts agree with my thoughts

That’s why we are friends…

We jog together in 10000-word dissertations

Or tickle each other with 140-character tweets

And I feel accomplished

That I now have friends in high places…

 

I now speak their slang

And their concerns

Are my concerns

Their outrage is my outrage

Happiness lies in the camaraderie

Between one bubble and another.

 

When you burst my bubble

I stand vacant

Alone in my madness…

And with this painful awareness

That I can’t see, or hear, or feel anyone

Outside of the thick walls

Of my mental asylum.

 

I have been shut in

To be protected from any contact with the breathing…

My walls are thick, impenetrable and safe

My shadow-friends erected them so that they could play

And oh yes, my walls have names

Please meet: Ideology. Fear. Pain. Self-loathing.

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Desire’s Destiny

Within me

So many have lived

and scripted my story

 

Some have stayed

for decades

for years

 

Pined

 

Agonized

 

Washed away

by floods of tears.

 

Some come visiting

a month, a week

and leave soon after

they find their seek

 

Coveted guests

who appear

for a minute or two

Rejuvenate

Refresh and

Renew.

 

A residue of wisdom

on ways to cope

They leave behind

magical wings of hope.

 

My nothingness defined

by their very being

They’ve challenged what I know

of my seeing.

 

They’ve come to me

inhabited my space

They’ve shown their artistry

their canvas- my face.

 

Desires in search

for room, for chest

They’ve come to me

to manifest.

 

It’s in rare moments like these

I stand face to face

Watching in silence

 

My nothingness

 

My space.

 

I know now

I can clearly see

My space is nothing

But desire’s destiny.

 

 

Posted on by solangesuri2015

It’s In The Getting to know

Yes…

I would’ve liked better teacups

But here you are

Nevertheless

Forsaken or gifted

Standing before me every morning

 

And so…

Despite a petulant will

Everyday I grow to love you

And everyday

I get acquainted

With your unexpected beauty

 

Love and Beauty

You’ve taught me

Are not mere affections

 

They are the gifts of our attention

Joys that we receive

Not in our hours of need or merit

But in the generosity of our receptiveness

 

They’re never destinations

But journeys of long, slow acquaintance

Of discovering

And getting to know.