found a beautiful poem. just sharing

HETHER I loved you who shall say?

Whether I drifted down your way

In the endless River of Chance and Change

And you woke the strange

Unknown longings that have no names,

But burn us all in their hidden flames,

Who shall say?

 

Life is a strange and a wayward thing:

We heard the bells of the Temples ring,

The married children, in passing, sing.

The month of marriage, the month of spring,

Was full of the breath of sunburnt flowers

That bloom in a fiercer light than ours,

And, under a sky more fiercely blue,

I came to you!

 

You told me tales of your vivid life

Where death was cruel and danger rife--

Of deep dark forests, of poisoned trees,

Of pains and passions that scorch and freeze,

Of southern noontides and eastern nights,

Where love grew frantic with strange delights,

While men were slaying and maidens danced,

Till I, who listened, lay still, entranced.

Then, swift as a swallow heading south,

I kissed your mouth!

 

One night when the plains were bathed in blood

From sunset light in a crimson flood,

We wandered under the young teak trees

Whose branches whined in the light night breeze;

You led me down to the water's brink,

"The Spring where the Panthers came to drink

At night; there is always water here

Be the season never so parched and sere."

Have we souls of beasts in the forms of men?

I fain would have tasted your life-blood then.

 

The night fell swiftly; this sudden land

Can never lend us a twilight strand

'Twixt the daylight shore and the ocean night,

But takes--as it gives--at once, the light.

We laid us down on the steep hillside,

While far below us wild peacocks cried,

And we sometimes heard, in the sunburnt grass,

The stealthy steps of the Jungle pass.

We listened; knew not whether they went

On love or hunger the more intent.

And under your kisses I hardly knew

Whether I loved or hated you.

 

But your words were flame and your kisses fire,

And who shall resist a strong desire?

Not I, whose life is a broken boat

On a sea of passions, adrift, afloat.

And whether I came in love or hate,

That I came to you was written by Fate

In every hue of the blood-red sky,

In every tone of the peacocks' cry.

 

While every gust of the Jungle night

Was fanning the flame you had set alight.

For these things have power to stir the blood

And compel us all to their own chance mood.

And to love or not we are no more free

Than a ripple to rise and leave the sea.

 

We are ever and always slaves of these,

Of the suns that scorch and the winds that freeze,

Of the faint sweet scents of the sultry air,

Of the half heard owl from the far off lair.

These chance things muster us ever. Compel

To the heights of Heaven, the depths of Hell.

 

Whether I love you? You do not ask

Nor waste yourself on the thankless task.

I give your kisses at least return,

What matter whether they freeze or burn.

I feel the strength of your fervent arms,

What matter whether it heals or harms.

 

You are wise; you take what the Gods have sent.

You ask no questions, but rest content

So I am with you to take your kiss,

And perhaps I value you more for this.

For this is Wisdom; to love, to live,

To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give,

To ask no question, to make no prayer,

To kiss the lips and caress the hair,

Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow,--

To have,--to hold,--and,--in time,--let go!

 

And this is our Wisdom: we rest together

On the great lone hills in the storm-filled weather,

And watch the skies as they pale and burn,

The golden stars in their orbits turn,

While love is with us, and Time and Peace,

And life has nothing to give but these,

But, whether you love me, who shall say.

Or whether you, drifting down my way

In the great sad River of Chance and Change,

With your looks so weary and words so strange,

Lit my soul from some hidden flame

To a passionate longing without a name,

Who shall say?

Not I, who am but a broaken boat,

Content for a while to drift afloat

In the little noontide of love's delights

Between two Nights.

a moment of rant

Our lives today, founded on clauses

Conditions, by communities, societies

Families, governances, plentiful nuances

We are born individuals, born with a soul

Born unique, to be different than the rest

To be different, on you it does take a toll’

A true essence of you dissipates

Replaced by the stench of the common

The worldly, the plenty, the crowd

You become what they want you to be

To survive, live by our rules they say

“be not too loud”

“be not too happy”

“be not too friendly”

“be not too angry”

“think not from your mind, for it isn’t your job. Let us think and guide you”

Blindly follow everyone as they go.

Their rules, or someone else’s that they follow

Have you stopped in your tracks for a moment?

Thought of who you really are?

Not conforming, not influenced, not by judgement?

Not impacted by what they said to you

Of what they thought you were all about?

What deep down you hold and believe so true

Have we lost ourselves to appease others?

a herd of cattle or sheep, which ever you prefer

your own identity, lost or smothered.

Changed so drastically, we own no memory

Of our own demons and angels,

Of knowing our innermost selves, the good bad and ugly.

We are no different, not so unique

Tinker toys from the herd factory

Our motives thin, our virtues oblique

When did we lose the will to be?

Who we are and what we WANT to be?

When did they all become important, their opinions sole?

And then, we blinded our eyes, only left for them to see.

Theres no such thing as love

Stripped bare naked.

Out on the street

Cast into loathsome self doubt

And self inflicted injury.

Stripped bare naked

Of any virtue, any soul

You questioned my conscience

My existence, on the whole

I bared my soul to you

Because of the belief of love

I thought you had in you for me

You were sent for me from above

My angel cast in heaven

I always thought you to be

and in an instant, my love,

became a lie to you; you tainted me.

Let me now retire to my self

Let my solitude be my new love

There is no knight in shining armor

There is no angel from above.

an appeal

Cold dead eyes that once bade me to come forth,

Stare back, a constant gaze of despise.

That warm look that did once melt me inside out,

Now spread such chill, unremoved.

You caught me gazing at you, awaiting a flicker of warmth,

And you turned away, as though, it was something you loathed seeing.

My heart felt broken, to see you broken,

My soul felt dead, to see you aching.

How would I exist, if you would no longer love me?

My heart, my soul, entwined within yours, now felt lost.

I belonged nowhere, no more.

Lost in obscurity, was our love.

Judgments made, distances now vast.

My ghosts, my former deeds, haunt me now from my past.

And I know I have lived this far only for you.

I see nothing else for me in this world, its true.

I yearn to see that pain ebb away my love,

I have erred, I have sinned. But far above,

It’s a self-inflicted wound upon me I’ve cast,

My stabbing you unknowingly, deep in your grieving heart.

You are my world, my life, my love.

No more words to be said, no more apologies, enough.

Take me back whole or none.

Or leave me be to whither, moon or sun.

Without you, my existence seems bleak.

I lament for your pain, my pain, within your heart, deep.

Come to me my love. I want to hold you fast.

Before this distance does away, what was meant to last.

sketches

You are here, with me.

I hear you , your mellow voice, in the sweet rustle of leaves. In the soulful wail of a violin. In the pattering of gentle rain on the pavement. In the calm of the ocean. In the cry of the sea breeze. I hear your peaceful voice. With every pause and skipping of a heart beat.

I see you, your angel like form, in the rising of the sun, and setting of it so. In the pale of a fog filled morning. In the rivulets and streams that churn their way while it pours. In the mesmerizing lights in a star lit sky, in my highest high, in my lowest low, I see your wonder some gaze.

I feel you, your warmth and compassion, in the gentle touch of the leaf while it falls. In the wind while it grazes my skin on a windy day. In the scorching sun, when I'm in my form most undone. In the softest dwells of a warm blanket, in the reassuring embrace of my mother. I feel you, my love and my skin tingles with laughter.

A saviour

At the threshold of losing faith,

On the brink of losing sanity.

Battles a-many, all hopes lost.

Losing face from reality.

Laying out there on the battlefield ,

Amongst ruin, bereavement and despair.

Green grasslands no more,

Ashes and cinders burn to core.

I lay amidst the heap so morbid,

As all vision grew indistinct.

No sounds but of the crackling embers,

My fading breath, a dying heart,

Life percolating away into a distant tunnel.

A bright light fell upon me,

Summoning my end.

A firm hand enfolded around my shoulders,

Pulled me upright from the ground.

The light slowly dimmed away,

A silhouette it brought forth.

A vessel brought to my chapped bloody lips,

A fluid dribbled in, soothing and cold,

I saw the face, a warrior, a brave.

His face bore the brunt of war.

Yet his expression, of calm and unassuming peace.

He rested my tired head against his chest,

And I felt an immediate reprieve.

Peace coursed from his veins into mine

Life, beating within my lifeless heart again

He lifted me into him arms;

Silent words spoke he, to me.

As my sight grew sharp,

I saw his face clear and sound.

A guardian angel, did descend,

In a mortal form.

Valor, said his name to be,

A warrior who fought many battles , like me.

Ill be by your side, were words I heard

For life, and for eternity.

-

Put an end to your masquerade,

Bring forth for us to your, your true face,

The one people know not of, the monster unseen

Your pretentious soul brought forth,

The pretty façade removed, revealed, at its own pace,

The breaking of an illusion, requiem of a dream,

The demon that dwelt within, finally. Seen.

July- 04- 2014

Every linkage created and then torn, sculpts a being further. This work in progress either takes a turn for the worse, or ends up being a masterpiece. Our souls make us decide, to choose the path to destruction, or to simply allow the damages to create something new, something better of us.

Let not the unsaid, remain unsaid. The deeds yet remain un-done,
Life's a journey, a wind blown leaf,
Long as a scorched sunny day, short as a cool setting sun.