Celebration of the Senses [Poem]

The fog of thought blurs my vision, and I cannot the world see. 

My mind is fixated on responsibilities and the world’s mysteries. 

But a refreshing breath of mindfulness awakens my soul, 

so I can behold this reality of which I am part of a whole. 

Before my eyes were open, but my Sight was blind. 

Now that my mind is at rest and I step out of the grind,

my hungry eyes want to take in everything there is to gaze:

O Life, let me see all of your beautiful, ephemeral ways! 

Let me see the leaves and their labyrinths of texture, 

let me see every shape in every colour and mixture!

O Colour! The redness of red, the blueness of blue! 

How deeply my Sight wishes to connect with you!

The simple magic of the baby snow hugging elderly trees, 

and clouds peacefully walking - O, what wonders are these!

Friends! Shrug your burdens off your backs, and let’s go!

Let us frolic, play, and laugh! For will this last? We don’t know.

All of you! Nature’s fair children, you who still have some vitality. 

All things in this world must pass, inner and outer, that’s reality. 

Our wealth of time is too poor, let us not spend it on crying.

Let’s share the love in our hearts and enjoy this life's dying. 

The Weight of Fate [Poem]

A youth is a seed. 

                       Any seed, When gently tucked into healthy soil,                          

And generously nurtured

with cool water and warm sunlight 

with diligence, patience, and compassion

 can triumphantly emerge as a noble tree.

Any seed 

can do that

but not on its own

that’s where you come in. 

What is better than feeling
that the steps you take are
carrying you forward 
on the path of your own 
enlightenment? 

Well, experience tells me it's better than self-atrophying 
just because you can hardly bear the weight of your own fate. 

I tell you: 
the enigmatic gods don't put responsibilities on your shoulders 
unless they have faith in you. 
What an honour a burden is! 

Tell that to yourself the next time you say: 

"I am too weak to be a gardener of society, 
I don't have a green thumb for humankind"

Instead, know this:

"To support is to be supported, 
to nurture is to be nurtured"

Do you not see the subtle hands
of the puppeteering gods
pulling the ecstatic strings of destiny?

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Inner Warfare [Poem]

Oft have I cried, "Lead me not into temptation"

I did not say it like the parrots in their pews.

Truly, truly, I said it in my heart of hearts. 

When will my piety at last receive its dues? 


Because still the God of my Spirit clashes

and quarrels against the Gods of my Flesh.

Every time one wills NO! the other coaxes YES! 

Will I ever rest from this fight, and breathe afresh? 


Fall a thousand times, rise a thousand and one. 

Quetism  bestows me with holy detachment, 

and Prayer fills me with mystical bliss. 

Armed with these, I'll have freedom from sense entrapment. 

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The Performance [Poem]

My soul is a mystery play;

I  know not those invisible actors, 

the kings and jesters, 

queens and knights, 

that love and die within myself. 

All I can see is their performance. 


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