Breathing the air of my land


Breathing the air of my land… walking  bare feet on the soil where I lived,

does  nostalgia fill in  your ambitious dreams…

The steps you imprint on the wetness,

reverberate in my ears unsaid,

echoing your heavy sighs,

that you just  exhaled…

Can you see the fluorescent green fields,

swinging in music of the neighbouring stream…

Did you hear my voice there,

in the sounds of the nature clean?

Did you ever trod on the path,

that went straight to my old house,

to have a glimpse of the place,

where I once lived subdued…

Does the wind that sways your hair,

misconstrues in your sense ,

for my fingers running through the strands,

calming you when you are stressed!

Did my thoughts enwrap you,

whilst walking  past my 

old journey…

Did such  epheremal moment …

got birthed … 

on the soil where I was born…

PATTERN OF LIVING


 
Patterns of living  ,intricate with beautiful mesh,
delicate framework,often mismanaged,
 virtues virtuous a way to disentangle,
Which cannot be taught or won by wars,
they are the blessings graced by the one Ultimate…
 
 
Experiencing the inflicting nostalgia within,
when the heart feels these virtues apart,
the doors of light open ajar,
with realization enlightening the dark…
 
 
Schools and discourses cannot teach,
the path to be traversed on,
these are just instruments to our  cognizance
Of great fragrances which exist in the Universe…
 
 

When away from all egos and logical storm,
clouds of ignorance enwrap your soul,
suffocated by world’s treacherous forms ,
 starving for the truth eternal,
when they touch a mountain figure of god head,
sublimate and condense
showering drops of ecstasy…
with eternal bliss within.