The Journey

A silent candle is set ablaze;
The first cry starts the hourglass,
An innocent and unknown cry.
Things new all around.
With awe in the eyes,
The hands try and feel them,
And when not felt, taste them.
And that child in its youth,
Like the candle in its silent, slow flame.

And slowly the candle reduces.
The child from boyhood to adolescence.
Thoughts various invade the mind,
A few unknown becomes a little known.
The young blood in the veins run tirelessly.
With many questions yet unanswered;
The welcome to limitless knowledge.
The fun in running around and a few pranks;
The flame shines brighter and taller.

Now a stop further leads to manhood.
The carefree, fun-loving self,
Changes to a responsible man
With more than a soul to support.
The responsibilities at home, at work,
Pile up endlessly on shoulders.
Thoughts many come along,
As many of those unanswered questions of the past
Comes with an answer in the harsh reality.
The smile shortens, yet a few more questions left unanswered;
The candle has a bit more to go,
Yet the flame is set all ablaze.

Little sand left in the hourglass.
Even little wax on the candle to melt.
The man in gray and white counts his numbered days.
Thoughts increase manifold.
How he feels the times have changed.
But he still smiles at the portrait of the woman, he once loved,
At the endless questions of grandchildren.
That's all he lives with, he lives every moment.
And the wick almost touches the ground,
Flame almost dead.

And then with a last gush of life,
The candle gives out a loud flame.
But then it dies down slowly,
Slowly, slowly, slowly
Never to be the same again.
And with the last gush of air,
The sand falls on the other side,
The flame dies out,
Eyes shut, body cold, gone for his heavenly abode...

At Your Door

The celestial bliss of the moon,
That rain in gallons; that night,
Lost in thoughts, I wondered,
Wandered, through the meadows miles afar.
No end did I know, why didn’t I know?
Why was I doing it? Knowingly or so?
But do not punish me anymore;
My heart is full from the grief of Time,
I am left at the doorstep;
But how, I want to move in,
Please open the door, to your heavenly abode,
Where does peace and love mine lies.
The best in the world can I get, so far,
Not so far, though, why did I fall short?

No, no. Let me in, for
This heart remains ever unquenched
Of its thirst, lost for days in the golden dunes.
Can’t I live without water, Yes, I can,
But not for long, the miles are too rough, I die soon;
Sooner in ought, this unrest can I hold no more.
Leave me not alone, hold me close,
Let your hand come through the door.
Open it! O open it I pray!
Let me in; no longer like this I can stay.
My heart palpitates, a little too on high,
Don’t go away, needless a goodbye;
Wait a moment in my memory’s mind,
I’ll forever be at your door, for one of your kind.

Spirits By The River

A Spring morning to begin with.
Gone we to work, though a holiday;
Unrest robbed the peace off the red;
Thought we, to sit along the banks of the Ganges.
No reason so to, yet the soul wants to;
And off we went, to the beckon of it.

Times now were not good, worst yet to come;
Sat we, not for atonement, but redress the peace
Which we lost; and so very true.
The fog brought the horizon nearer;
Sat we, as the breeze caressed our soul,
With its soft touch, which lay in;
The immortal voice; the spirits by the river.

Some used oars; some the noisy ones;
And some….yet none with sails.
They went across the river.
Slowly and steadily passed they in horizon;
Before leaving waved us as we waved;
Thousands unknown, yet were so known.

Therein a spirit surrounded us.
Closed eyes did we; opened our minds.
Closed ears did we; yet hummed a music.
Enchanted did we find the desired peace.
It spoke; we spoke, a long long time.
A gush of wind did the pigeons blow.
Stopped, looked at us, and flew away,
Again came back; to and fro.
Enlightened our minds, mesmerized the immortal self.
Not they were to blame but thank,
Peace restored; we owe it; the spirits by the river.