To the Seeker

A brilliant and lyrical thought by a dear friend!


The illusionist said, to the curious seeker,
To know this trick, you have to look deeper,
For it is my job, to show you what is not,
So you don’t get to see, how I got what I got.

So don’t look closely at the dart when I say,
And don’t say boldly that you know what I may,
Cause the trick is played with the board not the darts,
The trick is played with you, not the cards.

And o seeker don’t be low when it’s gone,
For it was an illusion that will be back when it’s dawn,
And don’t be sad that the pigeon vanish may,
Cause pigeons don’t vanish in a pile or hump of hay.

So learn my friend not to see what is shown.
See my friend not to find what is known.
Find my friend not to teach but to know.
Teach my…

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What I want..

I want to lead my life
In a way that
Awakens my Self
And liberates my soul,
Helps me untap
My creative potential,
Brings me closer
To my Creator,
Makes me humble
And deeply thoughtful,
Lets me appreciate
And enjoy nature,
Allows me to focus on
Things that really matter,
Makes me wiser
And more knowledgeable,
Fosters goodness
And boundless positivity,
Eases the resolution
Of my inner conflicts,
Adds meaning to my life
And to what I do,
Lets me contribute to
Those whom I love,
And lastly,
Gives me happiness
And sublime tranquility.

The Forgotten Manor

The darkness of oblivion
Shrouds the grand manor –
Then an abode of endless mirth,
Now a solitary forgotten charm
– Watching the creepers grow,
Shabbily twisting their way
Up on the pillars,
Slowly eating all the pride
Of the rustic beauty.
The splendid frame soaking
Up the last few sun rays
At the dusk of its glory.
The vacant French windows
Gaping at the cold countryside,
Still shocked and disillusioned
With the sudden demise
Of their amour-propre.
The lonely porch awaiting
A visit from someone, anyone
Kind enough to remember.
The creaky staircase looking
Intently at the door, hoping
That a guest would arrive,
Finding his way through the fields.

The darkness of oblivion
Has sure dimmed the verve,
But the hearth
Must be lit again!

The Isle of Past

On the faraway isle of past
The sands of time blew away,
Taking with them a thousand
Footprints from the yesterday.

The distant sound of music
And the distant roar of laughter
Dissolved into the sea breeze
That I won’t feel hereafter.

The water still washes up the shore,
The stars still shine duty-bound,
The air still smells of the salty sea,
But the jolly shadows are not around.

The pearls of a fair necklet,
Once bound by the string of fate,
Lie scattered by the ravages of time
Now on the isles of present state.

The grains of sand are slipping fast
Through my icy fingers – numb and cold.
Oh how I wish to freeze the time,
To hold all that one can ever hold!

I think I know…

Looking within and looking around,
Soaring high and walking the ground
Where have I come, what’ve I found?
I think I know the answer,
Or at least I’d like to think I do
But do I really know it,
Or is this feeling of mine not so true?
Delusion is a sweet charmer
– An ocean of great many depths
You’d think you are way past it
But there, don’t be sure of that bit.
I hate to think of what may be
That I dismissed so confidently,
Or that I didn’t think of at all
The matters of big and those of small.
Where are all these people heading?
By God, they seem so sure!
I guess they must be then
Trying to make their fate secure.
I’m not any other, I’m only me
Trotting my path, making a journey.
The road ahead is very long
Branching into alleys of right and wrong.
I think I know where I am going
Or at least I’d like to think I do
I better be right about it
For the graces of luck are only few.

The Illusion

That which meets the eye
Is too little and often a lie.
Care to dig deeper
Awaken the slumbering seeker;
Maybe you’ll find that which
Will make you stop and switch
From the old to the new,
From the false to the true.
Or maybe you will see what lies
Beyond the realm of apparent ties
– the only thing that really is
Under the frothy layer of fizz.
And if you don’t come across
Any of those, at least the gloss
Of the sunny lies would fade
As you search along and wade
Through the shifty waters of illusion
There, say a goodbye to your delusion.
If nothing, at least you will know:
That which meets the eye
Is too little and often a lie.

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