Posted on by solangesuri2015

What Do You Know?

Knowledge is a gain
That comes to those
Who sincerely seek it.

Books hold stories, theories
And philosophies.
On their own
They’re not knowledge.

Experiences too,
Are granted to all
But on their own
They don’t yield knowledge.

Knowledge is an invocation.
For knowledge to enlighten
There must first be
An awareness of darkness.
There must be acceptance
That one does not know.
There must be a question…
There must be wonder…

There must be the recognition
That Existence is the greatest teacher
But to Existence one must go.
She will not come to you
At a scheduled hour.

Have you ever wondered
What the trees know?
Or the wind?
Or waters that travel
Fearlessly across lands
To reach the vastness of the ocean?

What knowledge do they hold?
What knowledge holds them?
And do they ‘know’ about it?
Or is their knowledge of a different type?

Must knowledge be about mastery?
Does its value lie in its saleability?
What value does understanding have?
Must we know how to survive above all?
Or, must we know what it means to give
And how to sacrifice, and how to die
For the sake of something greater?

That is what is worthy of seeking
How the ordinary is so rich
With promise; seemingly simple
Yet so phenomenal.
So self-contained and yet so giving.
So weak, yet so strong.
Knowledge is important
So that you don’t waste your life becoming
That which you never were.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

When Will Wisdom Come?

When will wisdom come?
When you have lived a life
Of many detours…and many turns?
Or when unimpressed
With the map of the world
You reach for the stars?
Or when reality makes demands on you
But you leave to live your dream?

When will wisdom come?
When you walk the tried and tested path
Laid down by those who walked before?
Or when you seek recourse in religion
To be saved from a pervasive evil?
Or, as a pledge to the highest in humanity
You stay non-violent…
And hurt no one.

But is wisdom the child of intent?
Or the joy of escape?
Or the reward for resolve?
Or the unleashing of wild passions?
Or, is it a light that beams through you
When you have discovered
Along the way
How to be happy.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

Space in the City

Silence is a magnetic field
Created by a repulsion
To noise.

I have lived in city spaces
Where noisy roads
Are neighbours to islands of calm
Found in temples or parks…
Or in the little lane
That makes a quick exit
From a busy street.
Or in the silences held in homes
Where the sound of utensils in the kitchen
Or a pressure cooker whistling
Are the only sounds that tell you
That a family resides there.

The city with its speed and noise
Is ironically the providence you need
To cultivate your own field of silence.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

Life Experiences

There’s a breeze
That gently moves my curtain
Every afternoon.
The day is slower…
Calmer…
I think to myself–
Grateful for this solitude–
These are the experiences of being
That I wish to carry with me.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

Being Capable of Love

Child,
Not everyone you meet
Will do you good
Not everyone you meet
Will be sincere
Not everyone you meet
Will love you as perfection.
Your ideas of love
May not easily be fulfilled.

Love has many different faces
From the ugly to the sublime.
Love resists being contained
Within narrow definitions.
And yet it needs boundaries…
Otherwise, it remains doomed as hate.
Love must be understood
Through the instruments of love
Patience, attention, trust and faith.

Sometimes love is received.
At other times, often more challenging,
It needs to be given.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

When Fiction is Educated to Become Fact

Without the other

Would ‘I’ ever know myself?

Without sorrow

Would ‘I’ ever grow?

Without disillusionment

Would ‘I’ ever transcend desire?

Without love

Would ‘I’ have the wisdom to endure?

Without experience

Would ‘I’ know what it means to be?

Indviduality is fiction

Educated by longing, suffering and desire to become fact.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

The Existing Clock

There’s a clock in my home

That shows a different time.

It seems to have its own pace

It works on a different rhythm.

If I had to consult the other clocks

They’d say it does not work.

They would recommend repair

Or a replacement.

After all the job of a clock 

Is to work “round the clock”

And unfailingly show us the right time.

I don’t know why I haven’t done it yet…

Why I haven’t repaired or replaced it…

“There are better clocks out there,” they say.

I know. But my knowing 

Doesn’t want to act on its knowledge.

I like it being wrong.

I like that it shows me a different time.

I like that it is out of sync and free.

It makes me smile.

The clock does work

Just not in the way it’s supposed to.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

Your Life is Your Gift

It takes time to build

A reputation, a life, an identity

Yet time holds little regard

For your version of reality.

 

In a single brutal stroke

It can level down to the ground

All your structures and your plans

All gone…nothing to be found.

 

What do you turn to then?

Repentance, remorse, restitution or prayer?

Or are you grateful that

Though everything is lost, you’re still there.

 

You’ve done it before

So you know that you can do it again

With grit and determination

You’ll rebuild your life from zero to ten.

 

But what is loss trying to teach you?

And are you ready to learn?

That no matter what distance you cover

Over time, you will return.

 

Cling not to your honours and riches

For they delude you and make you forget

That the unreality you celebrate today

Is time lost, that you will regret.

 

So, what must we do with our time–

How do we rise above its drift?

Make it an offering to an ideal

Remember that your life is your gift.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

What is the Heart Afraid of?

Why is the heart afraid
Of darkness?
Why is the heart afraid
Of the unknown?
Why is the heart afraid
To take chances?

What does it stand to lose
By challenging existence?
Will it lose its gratitude?
Wisdom?
Restraint?
Will it lose a grip on life itself?

But what is life?
Is it the freedom to be?
The freedom to make-believe?
Is it suffering?
An entanglement?
Or an illusion?

How strange it is
That life cannot be known.
It’s a mystery.
It can only be lived.
It can only be experienced.
Sometimes in the light; sometimes in darkness.

Sometimes in action;
Sometimes in passivity.
Sometimes in isolation;
Sometimes in longing.
Sometimes desiring an end;
Sometimes an eternal continuity.

The heart is afraid
Because it must after all,
Venture into life alone and bravely.
Without the cleverness of thought.
It must come to see that it doesn’t need architecture;
That it exists in the realm of surrender and possibility.

Posted on by solangesuri2015

Guilt

Guilt is dark. It entraps you.
It’s a shadow that engulfs you.
You can ignore it
But it follows you everywhere.
The eternal accompaniment
To expectations pinned on you.

But which you?
The one that thinks, feels, senses…
The jeeva.
Forever tormented into making a choice
And then being doomed
For having made it.

To conquer this induced guilt
One must transcend conditional relationships
That no longer nurture.
Isolation then is not a punishment
But a necessary outcome of growth.
Emotionalism must never pretend to be true emotion.

In a world obsessed with fictions
Persist in your search for the real.
Beyond name and form
Seek truth. Seek light.
Walk out of the cave.
Guilt is dark. It entraps you.