Even as much as bringing you to mind
does as if veritably amount
to offering salutations
to god-hood itself


Life? — that same
as an interminable passage,
destination uncertain
so then, might’nt we as well
together tread the rut
for a good while;
simply, in order that, to the ad infinitum
is brought on
a bit of innocent joy:


Me? —
the one fated to be
so caught up in the pulls and preasures
of a milling crowd,
that I’m soon lost to myself
O destiny gone all awry–
then when, not even
a moment may be called your own!
Lord, if it please thee
cause a pure state of being
to materialise once again

No knowing from whence:

No knowing from whence
this thorny jungle had grown tall,
right in the middle of my eyes–
then when, they just would not close;
as, of course, of sleep
there was no sign.
For, whenever, the eye-lids
earthwards would droop,
the multitudinous thorns
them did sting.
Came hence, one,
who quietly, gently, picked out
each and evey thorn;
and thus, there began
the reign of the repose
as had to it no sting.
O kind, calm soul!–
who at long last served,
my sores, the healing balm.


As always,
I await your arrival
to this, my side, of the shore
And so, no matter
that you shout for me
from across,
me you well realize
only right here.
And mine too a wish:
that even as you tide over–
you may meet with what is
far more
than your farthest imaginings;
and, as that has
become fully fruitful
your aeons
of long biding.
In the meanwhile,
I still await
your daring the rubicon.


To subsist at all
in a city of stones alone,
one perforce had to follow suit–
become stone.
But then, on sudden,
is incised a long line
of your affection
upon that same stone.
And, thereby, I sense that
the very connotation of petrification
appears to be undergoing a sea change.


“Knowing thyself alone,
helps thee know Him”
was as how the sage had prescribed.|
Who is one?
bare coporeality:
pure mentation:
a cipher in the grand total
of the inexorable human collective:
or, rather, all these, in summation?
To scarch, and research
through the heavy matter of the heart,
and one is soon beset by bouts
of great doubt
and such as put a stop
to ones pilgrims progress;
And still, once more in full swing, the task
of ferreting out who I am.


On the mind’s soil–
early each morning,
afresh pops up
the dread forest of cactus.
But then, with all I’m worth
I toil from dawn to dusk
to fell a flourishing pest.
And, it is thus,
when this forest is cleared finally,
there has come upon me such a sweet semi-swoon
that I sleep the sleep
of honest labour.
Though, the very next morning–
and that with the opening of my eyes,
I espy still another matching scourge
sticking its prickly tongues at me.
But yet, I’m not repulsed,
for with full strength
afresh I begin to mow
even the new one down.
This diurnal cycle continues,
perhaps means to continue indefinately,
but then in me too is the firm resolve
to lay low the forest of scourge.
Why, not me
it is this forest
that will meet with its waterloo.


Why yes,
This one too expects a raise,
and indeed that right up to
the sky’s giddy limit;
except in that, such steep expectation –
at least in this one case –
comes with an arduous proviso:
that if one hits the ceiling at all,
it is by virtue of pinions no other
than ones own.
Ah yes, by all means to make it
to the clouded heights,
but then this strictly courtesy
your own freely treading feet
no other means
En route, delays
and a back-breaking fatigue
are positively on the cards,
and consequent the worrying hitch;
And yet, anew, the massing
of the mad resolve:
To arrive, and nothing but to arrive,
and that entirely on ones own steam.