Wednesday, 19 November 2014

A journey within.....

Only roses know the best of love
And lips know the saddest lies
So do I of a weird dream
That bleeds but never dies

The temple bears the deeds and sins
And the rainbow bears the rays
So do I of an autumn morn
That shines but never stays

The faces hide the nicest soul
And wings hide a deadly flight
So do I of a fallen leaf
That severs but never loses delight

Only kids listen to unknown tales
And hearts listen to a sigh
So do I to the mourner's dirge
That surrounds but is never nigh

Trees whisper to new-born birds
And dews whisper to aging night
So do I to my own reasons
That revolt but never fight

The winter walks to season's seed
And the spring walks its green
So do I to the Holy Cross
That beckons but never lets me in

Saturday, 1 November 2014

Love is a ticket to eternity !!

The life is an amazing experience. The amazement emerges from not from its uitility or futility; it simply finds itself in love that mesmerises the moments spent by. Love portrays itself in romance or in affection or in reverence or in trust or in understanding or in dreams; but it hides itself beneath images it paints upon the soul. Love is a self-validating ticket to eternity that blesses us with the birth of a soul and carries a license to free ride through the walks of life with a companion to explore one of such images it leaves at the show. It resides in those moments only--shorter or longer--for the ride together. The images changes with the company it keeps one for the ride. The portrait of a mother floats in the sense so long the warmth of her stays around. The journey does not demand the presence of the comapanion to feel the delight of the moments of love. The ticket grants the ride with someone, without someone, with memories of someone or with failing to remember someone and even with the company of a sense of being only--with someone incomprehensible or with nature or the just wholeness of spiritual contentment. The images of the first fits of romance or infatuation spread itself in moments of dilemma, trepidation and emotion for the soul that travels along. The images of confiding the triumphant delight of the first encounter of romance or of tearing apart--of great expectations or deadening despair--with a friend sketch the moments of togetherness with rich colours of confidence and trust in itself. Anything prior to e posterior to does not relate to the same set of imageries. Every image is differently associated to the moment of the journey. These portraits reveal itself within and are buried within. They remain only with the soul that carries the ticket and none can ever behold it beyond the self where they were born. Buried under they may fade away forever or may resurface on walk through the memories. But, whatever be the destiny of each such portraits fruits of love that glorifies the moments of riding together, for sometime, to an eternity never preconceived. It never stops blessing us with the sense of walking together till the senses are gone. It carries the mission of bringing joy within, treasuring the memories within and glorifying the moments of being together in the walk of life. It leads us from nowhere to nowhere ever brightening the sense of living with simple joy in between.

The epitaph !

Between leafs of time  S leeps the untold tale of life, In dreams of love and love of dreams. Smudging the margin in between The ...