Wednesday, March 22, 2017

The Watchful Night


It has come to an end - the day, not your quest!
You buckle up your resolve, you simply can't rest.
The stakes are too high- its either now or never!
The hunt is so near - and now's no time to waver.

You are ready to lie low- in the dark night of the soul
Only to pounce and grab it, the moment it shines again-your goal!
Good things come to those who wait, Slow trees bear the best fruits,
You can plan and scheme and prepare some more - to tackle the problem at its roots.

When the night was dark and the vision obscured, all you could discern was a lemon or two,
Making a lemonade drink, you consoled yourself,  don't worry- this shall'th pass too!
You stretch and arc to take your aim, now that the dawn is near,
It's a matter of time, before it's light again, and the target is crystal clear.

As the silent night comes to an end, you think you have finally discovered your voice
Only to lose it in the hustle and bustle, as the day matures and the moment flies.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

The Magician - I


Via Wikipedia

This is a poem spread across multiple pages. Please read in order. Please click on links below to read the earlier passages from the poem.

The Fool - I.
The Fool - II.
The Fool - III.
The Fool - IV.
The Fool - V.
The Fool - VI.
The Fool - VII.
The Fool - VIII.
The Fool - IX.
The Fool - X.
The Fool - XI. 
The Fool-XII.


The fall came swift, though it was building for some time,
Now that the Fool has finally jumped, do we care a dime
Whether he survived or lived, to see another day,
The jump is done with, and over, and now if we may,
Move to the next part, where The Magician finally arrives,
To add some touches of magic, to our humdrum lives.
Will he whisk the Fool swiftly, as the Fool races downhill?
And is tumbling down a slope, that would surely kill.
But when the Magician arrives, the Fool is least on our mind,
The Magician casts a spell, which is of its kind,
We can’t see past illusions- that are just sleights of hand
But are mesmerised by tricks and under his hypnotic command
We are told to forget about the past-  and we gently comply,
Focus shifts from The Fools fall - to how the Magician can fly!

For the Magician just appeared, standing tall and majestic,
Flying in the air, without even a broom or stick,
Neither a witch nor a wizard, this was a trickster of kind,
Someone used to take chances, playing huge stakes blind
Blind-folded getting out, from a trunk submerged in sea,
Hands locked, legs locked, not needing a Key
His was an Ordinary Magic, the art of resilience,
Of bouncing back from failures, of being at ease
Between victory and failure, he remained steadfast
He had moved forward – leaving behind his past
His wand was made of bamboo, more like a flute
And his ending up being a magician was a total fluke.
By some stroke of luck, he had learnt the secret art
having no special powers- he was just playing his part.

Bringing joy to people’s life, sensitive to what they pine-
A relief from life’s banality- turning water to wine.
His magic made them believe, in things that were not true,
With his bag of tricks - he made a following of thousands new
Fools that were now thinking, that anything can be done
And that the Grail can be brought easily - by literally any one!
What was needed now, was to move from illusion to reality,
Would the Magician live up to the hype - or end up all pity.
On the face of it, The Magician, looks calm and composed,
and his clothes and props give an appearance- that we can boast
that never in a century have our prospects been so bright
the Grail is oh so near, and we have never been more right.
Except that he doesn't know magic a dime,
only how to look, and make look, sublime.

For even the tricks he knows, are far and - in between-
Some just useless, amusing - that could just please the Queen-
and queen of his heart - who had first made him trick
and treated him with treachery, made him fast and quick
Booed away from love, he had wowed to fight
This is his last chance to shine- can he make things right?
If he manages to stir this crowd, towards fighting well,
He can maybe redeem himself - and rest in Hell.
He may have failed at Love, but he did not fail in life,
Quite mediocre at Magic - but who stopped the strife.
And brought peace to the world, a smile on the face he loves
and gently from his hat pulled out a bunch of white doves.
The Magician ought to use his aura, that is so commanding
to work for peace and love, the eternal quest notwithstanding,

But is it possible to strive for Peace, when the Grail is still sought
and in the name of King and Queen, many battles fought.
The Magician is after all, a courtier to powers-that-be
And is bound by his loyalty- after a point he cannot see
That the people pining for Magic are not ones after the Grail
They just want to let loose- they are not the ones who can’t fail.
They just want to escape from life, not to confront it head on
These are a useless lot for Quest, not to be relied on
What the Magician has, are those who have already given up
What he needs instead, are fools that are hooked to the cup
he can make appear the Grail within reach, conjuring from thin air
But how to fill the hearts with desire,  longing and the will to dare
Is a problem confronting him tonight, as he contemplates his fate,
But haven't we forgotten the Fool, is the Magician late or is Fool now Late?

The magician had indeed come flying, as the fool was tumbling down,
But before he could intervene the fool had broken his crown
And lay dead on the bedrock, of the valley below
His neck separated from body, at a distance, slightly low,
Was his torso that was intact ,only the head was gone
And with that ends our hope – as the fool alone
Could have ended the war, could have ended the quest,
Now that he is gone, shall we let the story rest?
We still have the magician; don’t know what good he is,
Is he the humane answer or is he all biz?
The business of drawing crowds, and this time he has succeeded well,
A huge crowd has gathered,  clearly under his spell
The Fool’s neck removed from body, was an illusion of sort,
The fool is safe and sound- holy cow, and thank god!

The magician, with his tricks, had made the fool appear dead
Though alive and in one piece, the fall wasn’t on a rose-bed.
His neck was with his body, but his spirits were crushed,
More than bones or muscles, it was his heart that was hushed
Into silence- Now that he had fallen what was left to be proved!
His failure meant, the quest from the beginning was doomed
Though not his neck, but his hand was deeply fractured,
It was courtesy the magician’s tricks - he manufactured
An illusion so strong - people thought the Fool had taken,
everything in good stride- but the Fool was totally shaken.
Now it was the job of the magician to heal him anew
And when his body healed, let a quest begin new
However healing a fool is easier said than done,
The magician was not sure he was ready, so he begun.

Beginning before you are ready, is the Magician’s style
That’s how he met the queen – not through trickery or wile,
And committed to each other for the rest of life,
Finding courage to love, amidst the daily strife.
This Fool who jumped, from such a great height,
Seems like the pupil, who could be his apprentice, right?
These are some thoughts as the magician takes care of the fool
And nurtures him back to life from the deaths pool.
Let the fool die another day, let him be my pupil
Even if he didn’t end the quest, let the prophecy fulfill
That the one the magician saves, from the fall will end the quest
Whether the fool was saved from fall- is a technical point at best.
He did fall, and nearly died, so the oracle might have referenced him after all
but lending the hard learned secrets to a fool may lead to even the Magician’s fall .

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

The Scorching Day

With joy in heart, you start with glee, on the path to be wise and great;
Looking forward to, what lies in stock- Fall seven times, rise eight!
The path is hard- ought it be less? -Struggle shapes your character,
You've made your mind, that's the Way for you - never to deter!

Obstacles galore, no friends by side - you're made of harder stuff,
Don't backtrack now, don't think of rest- lest life call off your bluff!
The morning sun, once mild and soothe - is now but ball of heat,
Keep plodding on, keep chugging along- the day you can surely beat!

As evening falls, and shadows get long, the relief you feel is deep,
Not blinded by the sun anymore, you can feel the first doubts creep.
Is this path right? Will you come out clean- the woods are getting dark!
Or does wisdom lie, in peace and calm, and strolling in a park?

As luck will have, you come to a fork, and choose the well-worn bend,
Silently withering in the night, the dream comes to an end.