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Perfection is At Work

Things remain clean

When we persist

With the act of cleaning.

 

The action then,

Is more important

Than the state.

 

A state is indefinite

It can change or disappear

But the action must be consistent.

 

Persistence and perseverance

Are the only ways

To deal with entropy.

 

Action is the essence of life

To live , is to be

In an eternal relationship with perfection.

 

While you persistently act

To keep things in a state of perfection

Allow Perfection to act on you.

 

Life after all,

Is infinitely intelligent

And inherently perfect.

 

Disorder, disruption, chaos

Are surface disturbances…

Look deeper. Perfection is at work.

 

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The New is Being Prepared; Be Prepared for the New

Are these testing times,

Or is this an Act of Providence?

 

We know what our losses are;

Will we be able to see our gains?

 

Or, will all questions

Of loss and gain lose relevance?

 

With the discovery of new values

Will old denominations vanish?

 

Will our houses now become homes;

Will our hearths now warm our hearts?

 

Will social distancing

Re-acquaint us with each other?

 

Will we learn in isolation

What good company is all about?

 

Will we remember over time

This spring that  renewed us all?

 

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Durations

Allow time

To take you on a walk

To give your thoughts

A duration.

 

See yourself

Let go of ideas

And stand free of

Their certainties.

 

Definitions too

Are not permanent

Love has revealed to me

Other meanings.

 

The future

Becomes less important;

Plans and designs get replaced

By responses.

 

Today’s importance

Is self-evident…intrinsic;

Small matters that suggest

Little matters.

 

Say a prayer

Wash your hands and stay in

Apparently, that’s a good way to end

A pandemic.

 

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Today

And what does today say?

…the unfolding of light

….the repetition of rituals

….the memory of yesterday

Moments left behind

Moments arrived at…

All indicate two points in a continuum.

 

Let me pause.

Watch change happen…

Let me see time

Work its artistry

How will things be today?

What will lose its charm for me?

What will I begin to wonder?

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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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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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Time, Be Gentle

Time

Be gentle

To innocence that

Fails to see the virtue

In simply being.

 

Our hearts break too easily.

Our pride instantly dissolves in shame.

Our faith gets convicted by belief

And is then ever afraid to be free.

We insulate ourselves in hard coverings…

 

We become what we are

Never meant to be.

We seek a happiness

That flowed away with our tears

And then dried up.

 

Time

Be gentle

Teach us how to recognise

That eternal source of love-

The love that is unconditional

 

In its presence

we are just what we are…

Pretence is not a need

And becoming is not a band-aid

For a wounded innocence.

 

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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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Good Taste

Good taste

Is born out of refinement;

Out of a refusal

To vulgarize life and

To appropriate it for pleasure.

 

We live confused lives

Scripted by our fickle ignorance

Our beliefs are misguided

Our values, misplaced

Our philosophy, arrogant.

 

We buy to own

We earn money to buy

We work to earn money

In this organization of our time

Much is lost.

 

What if you reminded yourself

Life is a gift to be valued

Not a pseudo poverty

Needing pseudo alleviation.

All vulgarity would be transformed…

 

What could entice man

If he cares not for money

And has not mortgaged his time?

And has understood that

To love is his essential responsibility.

 

To simply be is humility

To be engaged, but not tied

To be essential

Not excessive…

Good taste is good judgment.