Three tiny tots
and a fluffy dog,
laying on the grass
looked at the clouds.
the first one said,
look an elephant,
the second one said,
look a rabbit,
the third one said
look a dinosaur dancing on the rainbow,
the others were jealous of his imagination,
he was only humble for his blindness
Would you rather
float in chaos,
waiting for
an impending,
inevitable
and untimely end
or surrender to the complex
and the orderly life
with a clock showing your definite end.
the fun part is we always choose one of them,
but never even notice, that’s life.
Souls are wandering
in every corner
even now,
searching for nirvana
the truth,
it couldn’t find,
while being trapped
in a body driven by desires
the truth is out there,
somewhere sometime
it would bump into it,
but never in afterlife,
Never.
We all are searching for the Protagonist,
in the empty and deserted halls of faith within,
with each day we consume the poison
of ignorance and it kills slowly
but surely.
one day will arrive
when we all realize we were the mast holders
of the stormy nights just looking for light
and we gave up sensing lack of help from anyone
with fear of drowning or eaten alive.
What only we needed was to endure a brief pain
to hold on the mast a bit longer,
the protagonist would have surfaced in the same halls,
lightning, winds,tides all would have been a laugh from then.
Don’t search the protagonist . Be One.
of your life,your fight,your death.
A touch of red wine,
mixing in the blue above,
brewing the sky
into a million shades
of loneliness,
love
and whatever lies in between.
They say faith lies
in church, mosques,
gurudwaras and other places
but I have seen faith in eyes
of a little girl kissing his brother goodbye
at airport, a mother hoping for his son’s
overseas call and guy who believes his
dog will recognize him after years.
Faith is a gift some are yet to recieve
It hung there
for god knows how long,
must have been tired
of all those stares,
the gasps
and the noise all around.
I wonder if they ever need a hug,
an imagination being trapped
forever in a box and sealed in glass
is beauty and cruelty at the same time.
Writings to Heaven 