Mr.Gibran

Said a fox when chased by twenty horsemen and a pack of twenty hounds, “They are going to kill me. But how foolish they must be. Surely it would not be worth while for twenty foxes riding on twenty asses and accompanied by twenty wolves to chase and kill one man.”

Black or White

I’ve been wandering for a long time now,
Through the walls surrounding my head,
Searching for some answers lying on my bed,
All these years of the life I’ve led, how,

Everybody laughs and all of us cry,
While most are bold, only some are shy?

While some have more and most have less,
Wondering if it is a curse or if it is a bless,

Someone is happy, everyone is sad,
While some are good, most are bad,

People are cruel, humans are kind,
But run you must, for not to be left far behind,

Only some win and most lose,
Some have no choice and some all to choose,

While few speak the truth, most always lie,
Some can’t differentiate the earth and the sky,

Some are ugly and some are so beautiful,
Some see it half empty and some half full,

Few hear and most don’t of what you say,
Some are just happy and someone just gay,

While some stay in cold sewer cellars,
Many become warm city dwellers,

Is there a dark day and a bright night?
Many have eyes but no sight,

Some have nothing to eat, many have apple pie,
For some to live, many have to die.

A Change In Perspective...

Sit up and listen,
To the water flowing downstream,
Below the mountain of pasqueflowers,
Where we swam a bit and played a little,

Too much water, just too much,
Flowed, but not for long after,
Aftermath, not worth remembering at all,
Subtle nostalgia of the rise and fall,

Spiraling conversations,
Thou art an architect of this universe,
Time for the one to retire,
And return to a drag beyond the black,

Perspective

Time for the one to retire,
To sit up and listen,
To the water flowing downstream,
And return to a drag beyond the black,

Below the mountain of pasqueflowers,
Too much water, just too much,
Flowed, but not for long after,
We swam a bit and played a little,

Aftermath, not worth remembering at all,
Subtle nostalgia of the rise and fall,
Spiraling conversations,
Thou art an architect of this universe,

Vision

A vision of what I wished was real,
Images in mind slowly morphing into chaos,
Losing what I virtually held,
All day and all night long,

Gravity of the sense,
Lo! and behold,
Here they reappear once again,
Only to disappear in the labyrinth of the mind,

It's colours in shades of blue,
Red, Violet, an orange hue,
Any colour you may like,
As always it's return to the black,

Beauty lies in the hands of the beholder,
When a mad man sees discordant beauty in chaos!

Quo Vadis?

Have entered the second quadrant of life

Cold and Blue

The child looked on earnestly,
Into the eyes that were exuding void,
An abyss, into the ravine,
Her mother's eyes,

It had been several years,
Since the father had died,
Now the child had grown,
To a beautiful damsel,

Her innocence had not faded,
And her heart wrenched to see her mother,
Garbed in white,
All day and all night,

She was scared to ask her mother,
How, her father had died,
Lest she hurt her fragile feelings,
Knowing, so far, her mother had lied,

One day she saw her mother sitting near the door,
She had made up her mind to ask her the truth,
When she opened her mouth to speak, her jaw dropped,
To see her mother cold and blue

In The Winds Of Desire

For once the heart flutters,
In the winds of desire,
To steer the catamaran,
Off to an uninhabited island,

Thoughts and dreams running untamed,
Every step unfurls a new panorama,
Like a life seen through a kaleidoscope,
By the tender blue eyes of a child,

Far away in the ocean’s water,
A penchant for a swim,
In the full moon night light,
To wash the wings of wishes in the brine,

As yet another day dawns,
The sea gulls rise to the air,
Welcoming the first gentle rays of the sun,
On the waters of the morning

Whither Goest Thou

The sweet fragrance of serenity,
In a state of suspended animation,I ask my self,
"Whither goest thou?"

The response ain't coming,
So I turn and head back,
To the cosy comfort of my own self,

The cerulean dreams of desire,
Some feeling of home coming,
Some feeling of Deja Vu,

"Do you know, everybody is running away?"
The moment I open my eyes,
I see the same faces who didn't stand their ground,

The sweet frangrance of tranquility,
In a state of animated emotions,
"Is it beauty in chaos?"

The response ain't coming,
So I turn and head back,
To the cosy comfort of my own self