Like The Flowing River

Like the flowing river which knows no barriers

Or, swirls no tide

For it keeps flowing far and into the wide;

Like the flowing river which knows no penance

Or, holds no shame

For it keeps enriching without seeking fame;

Like the flowing river which knows no boundaries

Or, deprives no clan

For the Niles and Ganges serves the same man;

Like the flowing river which knows no pain

Or, breeds no dearth

For with all His creation shares an equal mirth.

Like the flowing river, conceived to quench thy thirst

Yet, not thy desire

For the despondence soars, last breath into the pyre;

Like the flowing river, cleansed thy deed of sins

Yet, not in itself sinful

For her inception chastity, thy conscience remorseful.

Like the flowing river, thus my vision of Man,

For seeds of both sown in Kingdom – all His plan.

On Summer Nights

I still see the tides turn,

Blowing kisses on a Grecian urn,

Walking through those moonlit sand,

The first blossom of spring, hand in hand;

Lucy had something to say,

But her master finds she’s gone away...

With the wind, and with the tide,

The ring was ready for the bride.

I still remember the careless whispers,

Down the lane of mischief and subtle gestures;

The twinkling stars of midnight,

Overseeing many a tryst of scented delight;
A sudden disappearance into the fading gold,

In the blue horizon, the mystery beholds,

Endless ushering of wave after wave,

Memories afresh... I take to my grave.

On summer nights, thus

I still see the tides turn,

Blowing kisses on a Grecian urn,

But, my Lucy would never return,

But, my Lucy would never return.

Unfinished...

I know this will pass,

Only memories will remain at last,

Of some worthwhile moments shared,

A few little emotions spared,

As some stories untold remain,

Some feelings ... Like teardrops in the rain;

We fly high with our wings spread,

Like the stories we’ve once read;

At life’s crossroad, making choices of our own,

Settling into other worlds unknown.

Will the common space ever nurture?

Or, the unspoken make a mark?

Only time shall unravel its course for future,

As I stand a silent observer to the dark.

 Its Time...

Its time I sing my own song,

May be I’ve heard others a bit too long,

Or never seen a vision so strong,

For metaphor takes time to dawn,

I thought I was only a mere pawn,

Where only The Supreme has a way of His own,

Though lays ahead a path unknown,

Conceived are we even least but known?

Pies of faith and a rucksack of blessings

I take with me along,

For a journey that’s quite my own,

It’s my time to make a mark strong,

A call to my destiny, a battle redrawn.

I heed – I begin voicing a song of my own,

Into a journey quite unknown...

I  Know Two Little Boys

I know two little boys,

Little as they are to me,

But growing up every time,

 Through my scattered visits;

I see them shape with visions chaste,

As they embrace me,

With a delightful haste;

Pa! They tell me,

“Where have you been?”

I fathom those dark eyes,

Their spring to me – almost unseen;

Solitary yearning with occasional retreat,

Have formed the bygone years,

But with a warrior’s might,

I still pursue my own fight;

Dreaming of a tender future,

With togetherness and repose,

For now in their sublime shoulders,

I place my paternal faith;

A strange enthusiasm ignites me within,

I know they indentify it too;

Inspire my strong arms still to them,

For they realise, they need me,

As I need them,

They know, I identify it too,

For I live in them,

As they live in me,

I know two little boys,

Little as they are, till today to me.