Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘soul’

WHO SAYS

Who says there is darkness, who says time ends
Our desire to love among each wave that bends?
Not whispers, nor this changing world will ever last,
Why fear, why swing among the thoughts of the past?
Who says this heart will not beat again, who says?
This soul will not tread the same path in sun rays?
Temple to temple, door to door, we knock for peace,
Who says our god doesn’t exist in our most loved kiss?

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

And you play so beautiful that the air echoes all life,
No clouds, no darkness ever I see since I fell in love.
That same melody of my muse, those same whispers
In my ears which say to love more and as time move
I see every face cold, carved with an unknown grief.

Someday when the chords are in tune and stars smile,
We will play again that music we made under the moon.
Who says we will die? Who says this world can end
The promise we made to that god and can forget soon?
We will but only stand to hold each other for a while.

The winters of this life, the draught of a thinking mind,
The tides of tortuous dreams that make the world blind;
We will forever live and love, we will forever now play
We will meet beyond the clouds where no humans reach.
The air would be cold and I promise our love will teach.

Thousand souls will play the greatest music for love ever;
You be sure, we are here to sing our dream and live forever.

Read Full Post »

The storm has calmed down now by the time
That touched you and touched me with love.
Let death distance us if it can with its strength,
We will be born again and again with our faith
That shall beat its wings with the dearest dove,
And sing the melody among lives so sublime.

Let thoughts be the orchestra and eyes paint
Desires unknown to the most reasoning minds,
Let this war be over, we’ll talk to the moments,
And walk on the green grass feeling the dews.
Let the temple doors open again and we light
The lamp and bow before the greatness of god.

The stones will remain, the soul will but flee
To its own kingdom of heaven where no fear
Will ever stand, no greed will ever question
The intent of life, the dissent for every death.
Let the muses come and guide us to the tree
Where flowers of gold breathe enough faith.
Let love fill every bard, let blessed be the eyes
As we greet every passing moment and rise.

Read Full Post »

leaf.jpgIt’s been so many years on this earth, so many moments, so many experiences that life puts us into so skillfully that we apparently feel, we are writers of our own destiny. Today, standing somewhere in the middle of my journey, I paused and wanted to reflect my hope into the air that enveloped me under the mincing sun rays of a spring afternoon. What I found was a dried leaf that unintentionally rested on the ground with so much to tell, so much to share, so much meaning for someone who looks deeper into the threads of a fabric called our journey. This leaf certainly came out of the moist possibility that nature would have inspired to make the tree grow till it can, it would have surely seen the seasons pass by, so untouched yet grow with it so undaunted. There would have been flowers that got nourished so much by this leaf and fruits that would have resulted after a natural effort, without looking back at who offered what. The pursuit of our life is so much similar to this leaf. We are born to live, but time scathingly satirizes our effort to an end so much scripted to a moment when everything seems ceasing. Helpless, hopeless it may look like at times. But the essence of life certainly is at the end we contributed to the tree of life by whatever we could, with our abilities inspired by experiences. There is no universe that can deny that existence is not inspiring. There is no tree that can hold the leaf forever. Yet it holds it again and again, for it to fall. The essence of life is to realize surely, this truth that we do our best to whatever role we are assigned to, in this tale of eternal love.

Smile at everything that comes across and we are through.

This photograph was taken at a walkway in Sector 17 Chandigarh today that inspired this thought.

Read Full Post »

Who says seasons change with time?
Who says we will die in the darkness?
Who says our prayers are only unheard?

Drop the fear, the anguish with time’s passage;
And let no stone be unturned if not by effort
But by the spirit of love till the eternity feels,
And invites us to join the chorus of the divine.
These stars are the saints, this light is ours;
Believe, and it all turns into light and glory.

Words fumble when the tongue feels the air;
Sight differs when the light fills us and lure
Every soul that comes across with the truth
Of this journey called life, this air called love.
We often give up just before we could achieve,
And close our eyes before the sight of fear.

Believe not in reason, but in faith for long;
For we are the soul; we are the song!

Read Full Post »

When I walked over the dried ferns under the oak,
The moist fallen leaves gazed and asked if am a soul.
What makes this being so light and that has crossed
A million questions, and seen words turn into wind.
Now no breath invites a rhapsody among the wood,
But stand like surreal statues to falter in an old feud.

Sometimes it’s the man in the street, homeless, tired
But with sunken lips says “it is a beautiful world”;
Sometimes, it’s the golden steps upon which the lady
In bizarre, sighs on everything that crosses the cold.
Is peace so far that we purportedly seek in passion?
Death is but silence offered to every moment we lived.

Rumbling among the thistles of these autumn behind,
The feet now tired, the head pulled through the wind
With so many thought pieces and moments to lose.
Until the waves touch them, until the sand is so kind
To hold the feet and declare for the times to come
I will either live with the heart or be left to remind.

Read Full Post »

Hunger does more miracle if not the being
That settles down among the cold winds.
We’ll arise again and till we become the light,
We’ll fail among those desires every time.
The soul says now to be the song not rhyme.

Why write with ink from our innocent heart?
Why allow the blood to flow through the pen?
Who reads these days, what books we hold?
A sad man stands at the crossroad to meet
And talk to the moon that comes after rain
To tell how clouds swim with dreams so cold.

It’s bleak or brazen or burns like a furnace,
Yes, our heart that melts with passing time.
If not, we stand tall and help wipe the tears
And bring smile to a lonely traveler’s face,
We must buy the thought and again rhyme
We have not grown but gone with the years.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »