One Time Act

One day I'll paint a masterpiece, I'm honing my skill,

Once I know how to draw, I'll go all in for the kill.  

When time demands, and stakes are high, I'll give it all I've got,

Paint 'The last leaf' on the wall, and become a demigod.  

One day I'll sing a song so sweet, even sirens will get lured, 

Today let me just play with notes, let my voice get inured. 

Tomorrow when she pines for red, who to my heart is close,

I'll let the thorn pierce deep and fine, and sing like 'The nightingale and the rose'.

One day I''ll draw a sketch so fine, right now let me doodle and play,

Pencil, pen or sand I can use, even charcoal I may,  

But you have to see it as children do, when I reveal it don't cry or wince 

The sheep that ate the grass and left, just like in "The little prince'.

 

Genius is not a one time act,  you have to live it every day,

The results may be poetic or prosaic- you have to create come what may.

Clarity

You exist, I exist, that much is true,  

God exists or Santa Claus - is but believed by few. 

We can debate ad nauseam, what is true and false, 

And let life slip by silently, or catch it by the balls. 

I am good, you are bad, an illusion wired hard,

My people, like me, are welcome; strangers must be barred. 

That I belong to the given group, I'm righteous and correct, 

The reason you are sinful and wrong- you are part of a different sect? 

 

Life should be fair, good should trump evil, wishes by the tons, 

That we should be immortal beings-  absurd, non sequitur ones.  

The world needs to be a rosy place, no need to don sandals, 

For you, I ought to carpet the world, with no fear of vandals.

 

What is true, what is good, and how things ought to be, 

Alone I barely know an aught, but with you for miles I can see. 

Life, The Universe and Everything

Immensely vast and shockingly cold, with pockets of energy sprinkled sparse, 

The Universe is mostly dust and space, quiet and indifferent to human farce.

Earth exists as a one-off aberration, as if a pulse emanating from a black hole,

How wonderful it would have been, if Earths prospered from pole to pole.  

Always hungry and eager to grow, with everyone food and con-specifics few, 

The Life is mostly about fight and survive, and only the strong get their due. 

That compassion be wired and inbuilt, is as if a miracle just came true,

How wonderful if life was all about, thriving together with Love as the glue.

Afraid of death and in search of a god, with flashes of reason and insight a little, 

The Human is mostly flesh and blood, playing the given hand, refusing to be second fiddle.

The inner voice howls and haunts and taunts, faint and inaudible, its presence a boon, 

How wonderful it would be, if instead of playing God, humans found their Humanity soon.  

I'm merely an impotent observer and poet, a chronicler of the times, 

How wonderful if my words become an Oracle, and not mere rhymes.

Break Time?

Everyone slogs, from night to day,

Gets worn and torn, keeping death at bay.  

I can stretch to the limit, and suffer a breakdown, 

Or go on a maintenance break- and return the talk of the town.

Everyone strives, from earth to the moon, 

Gets drained and sapped, losing drive too soon, 

I can outrun the treadmill, finally run out of fuel, 

Or go on a rejuvenation break- and return a sturdier mule. 

Everyone runs, from pillar to the post,

Gets heated and dissipated, barely avoids getting roast.  

I can cycle through loops, till you forcefully interrupt, 

Or go on a hibernation break, and return stronger, though abrupt. 

Everyone weathers, from roots to the shoot,

But if you are grounded and down to earth, you don't fear the occasional reboot.

A Zero Thought Mind

Thoughts are swirling in my mind, some say, in a day, 70 grand,

Most are useless, recurring ones- vanishing like lines on sand. 

Some are pretty nasty too, fill me with fear and dread, 

How silly, I aim for zero thoughts, when thinking wins me bread.

 

You think a lot, put your mind to rest, - easier said than done,

Just focus on your breath for a change,  your thoughts wont weigh a tonne.

Take a deep breathe in, hold to count of 4, and slowly do exhale,

The thoughts will come to a gentle halt, as the ship loses its sail.  

In case the storm of thoughts is strong, I've other tricks up my sleeve, 

Ground yourself in the present moment, till the thoughts do not leave. 

Notice 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch and feel, 

Forget the past, park your dreams- stopping thoughts is no big deal. 

If I truly wished, I can get rid of, your each and every thought,  

Sans your memories, pain or pining for- I'm as good as naught. 

Why So Athletic?

Ready, steady, go, waiting for the sound of gun,

I pump myself up, getting primed for the run.

The distance is short- I've got to give all it takes,

Its a sprint that I must win, as its a game of high stakes.

As I take my mark, breathe deep, get ready to roll, 

I calm myself down, settle for a leisurely stroll, 

The distance is large- I've got to conserve for the long haul,

Its a marathon that I must finish, winning is an order tall.   

Ready, ready, ready, I've to keep changing tracks,

Swim, cycle, run, test my abilities to max,

The course is bumpy- I've got to learn all the tricks,

Its a triathlon that I must endure, as all check-boxes it ticks. 

 

Sometimes to prove to others, sometimes to myself,

I end up running in circles- hoarding trophies for the shelf.

A Fading Symphony

Wishing you annually on your birthday, that ritual is now passe,  

Penning a few lines, for you, here and then, about that I cannot say. 

What used to stab, and wound and throb, now runs on an even keel, 

The background hum of pain has died, behold the man of steel.

The yearly exchanges of wishes and notes, my tenuous link with thee, 

Is finally brought to halt this year, I've set myself free.

I no longer need to scheme or brood, on what you'll say to me,

I'm a master storyteller now, you'll be what I'll like to be. 

 

Its difficult for me, to be constrained, by the sobering reality,

-That my love may be, unrequited, sterile- Oh! spare me the pity.  

And that's why I close my eyes to you, now you are no longer piercing or true, 

They may call me names, or delusional, but over the cuckoo's nest I safely flew. 

The more I try to catch your shadow, the more it increases my parting pain,

The moment my fancy reshapes you as a ghost, I'm back in control and at peace again.