The Time for Everything

There is a beautiful hymn sung in church, (based on verses from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8), about how there is a time for everything. I love that hymn, and I am convinced that, in addition to the time, the order in which God gives us his gifts, is quite removed from what we  think as logically appropriate. We get things actually in the order of our emotional readiness and maturity, which may require some lessons that delay or reverse the order in which things should appear in life. As an example of receiving things in reverse order; it is common to see that people search for a person who can love them; they marry, have children, and yet being truly loved alludes them. When they give up on the concept of love, it happens...,with the discovery that to have love in life is actually about 'truly loving' and not all about 'being loved'. It is a reverse order of learning; where the proper order, as we believe, is to learn to love before getting married. 

To give a personal example of delay; when I was in my teens, I had a diary with some of my poetry, which I lost in a movement to another place. That loss prevented me from indulging in any serious poetry for more than a decade as I was only thinking of my lost poems; until recently when I got a much needed push to write again. Now, I have an internet diary in which I can write without fearing it getting lost due to my movements, and now I even have a platform where I can share it unlike with the diary which I would have never shared. Moreover, I feel I have more emotional maturity and experience now to have a substantial topic for a poem. Everything has a proper time. You just have to send your wish to the universe, and it will take its time to set the stage perfectly, and then when it is absolutely ready, it will open its curtains on you. Remind yourself that the bigger and better the stage the universe is preparing, the greater can be the delay. The longer it takes, the further it will surpass what you had in your mind. 

This poem celebrates 'the proper time'...Apart from that, it mentions the secret- regarding what should be followed as we chart our path in life : the secret is that it is the heart that should be followed and not the written rules of the world whenever there is a conflict in the direction pointed by each... 

 THE SECRET 

The child sat up in bed that night, 

and said the prayer so clear outright,

 "Dear lord, I love you. I think I know

 that you are near, watching me grow.

 But I wish, I knew what you want of me,

 'cause I waste each day 'with no decree." 

 Each day, she said the same one prayer,

 but then one night, it got hard to bear.

 As tears fell down and wet her bed,

 her angel sat beside and said, 

"Dear child, I'm yours, and very near..." 

In her ears, she heard that whisper clear!

 "...watching you, not waste a single day

 as you end each one, with a time to pray.

 Just a child, it is your time to be; 

to sing and play and dance with glee.

 Sharp your senses, make your heart ready, 

for life's a path of discovery."

"As for that quest, the worry anew,

 'What do I have in life to do?' 

The answer dear, is hard to adhere.

 It's to live a life without a fear.

With a humble heart, you should receive

all that your God has planned to give. 

Not just the joy, but the miseries too,

 and end each prayer with a true 'thank you'.

 God sure will give all that you want,

 but only when you've stopped to count.

 God has an order, in which He gives,

 and that will clash, with your planned motives.

 You'll find seven heavens when you work your earth,

 you'll find your love when you've lost its worth.

 It's not when you ask, that you do get, 

when the soil is ready, the seed can set.

So take God's gifts, when he chooses to yield,

 and now a secret I will unveil...

 What and when He gives, will cause turmoil;

 your long held values, it will spoil.

Soon you will fear what gifts could cost,

 as you unlearn..., all your values lost. 

Now the secret is - 'It's not in 'deed',

 it's in the heart, which you should heed." 

"Oh dear," cried the girl, and woke with a scream.

 "Thank heavens, it's nothing, nothing but a dream! 

I wouldn't, I wouldn't lose all that I learn!" 

But the secret revealed in her heart did burn...

"Follow not, oh never, all deed out of fear.

 Follow me, your heart, to God I am near."

The gate to reality

Life, its issues, miseries and trials..are, but unreal.
Listen, to the trees, the clouds, the vast endless sky..so beautifully,
silently, speaking..what is real.

The words, the hurts, the diseases, the agony..all, indeed unreal.
The rousing of the sleeping spirit; the inner calm ..so tranquil,
through life's painful prodding..  is, deeply real.

Half asleep or wide awake; the body still slumbers, stays unreal.
but with the first stirring of the soul ....arises beauty
surreal..so real, ethereal.

All that was the world, was life, to the body... but dies with death, is unreal.
All that is gained, in spirit....through life, through death
..is real....is real...is real.

Who Am I

When at the crossroads where I have to choose;

I ask-who am I?

And  I choose what is true to my being;

And pass the other by...

When I feel I am wrong, and have gone with what I desired,
I don't regret ...

It is still who I am.

All what I could not do without;

It was better , than to die...

I am, when I can be

all that I want to give.

I am the one who lives,

 when my spirit is full fire.

The out held hands come many

But want not all that I am

 I have to pass them by, 

say a hundred times goodbye.

And hold only to a hope..

 that does not choose to die
..for a heart, who knows, and calls,

                                                                          to all of ‘who I am’

Lighting a Candle

'Gloom' itself the night, to which I suddenly woke
Fearful the sounds that crept up close,
mingled with the thump of my very loud heart;
Which sang of a terror with a thundering force.

Wet went my palms with all that I feared
I trembled and cursed until thoughts cleared;
Wasn’t there a candle and match I could find?
But the dark ate at me as the distance sneered.

I stumbled through the distance but, did find my way
I did light the candle and it leapt bright and gay!;
that the shadows that threatened were now the scared
as they fled from the fear of the truth spreading ray!

With a candle I could see all for what it was
Now nothing could pretend to be something it was not;
The ghost at the window was just a hanging branch!
And the threat at every step was merely my thought

The light that I lit was 'sight' new to see
A strength to my heart, a guide to my feet.
Lighting a candle is all that it took,
to tick at the truth and cross the “could be”...

(Topic from Roy Durham...What does the light of one candle mean to you)

Truth hurt me (Lament)

Whoever said truth is good
Honesty a virtue..
Didnt see me, didnt know me
How truth hurt me..

Whatever said from my heart
was not argued
it went like a thorn and came back at me
Why! truth hurt me!

Am I loved for my truth
not for long
truth often bitter, hurts, hate me
My truth hurt me

A Valentine-For the Loved or the unloved?

Valentine day is named after St. Valentine. I read, that St. Valentine a PRIEST, supported love, romance and marriage and performed marriages in a time in Rome when Marriage had been outlawed! He was also a sort of pen friend to a young blind girl, being a light in her darkness. In his last letter to her, before his execution, he addressed himself as 'your Valentine'.

Valentine day, a day of celebration of love, is not just for couples, it's about being there for all the lonely souls, it;s about being there for oneself.

There might be so many lonely folk on a valentine day! They might not even be lucky enough to get a good soul like 'St. Valentine as a friend in their loneliness, but someone they should always have is their own selves. Is that easy? If it were, there would be no suicides ever! Whatever the reason for suicides, the basic reason is that one forgets to love ones own self! Everybody in the world may be pointing at our faults, but each of us is a temple of God. The first duty of every person is towards one's own self, to discover one's own potential that nobody else has a duty to notice; a duty to love oneself. in a world where nobody else may show the capability to truly love another.

So, I write a poem dedicated to all those who might have often found themselves lonely on Valentine day

MY BEST VALENTINE

It's a day of Love, a day to give

A day of friendship, joy to live

But first I have a Heart of Mine!

I treat it well, my Valentine

It cares for all, it cries for peace

It bleeds for love, it smiles with ease

And then all lone the day?! It's fine...

as 'I', am my best Valentine!

It mends my dream, eases my frown

It holds my wishes, n'er let's me down

All darkness, it's my one sunshine!

Yes 'Me', my very best Valentine...

The fortunately unlucky...?

"Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out"

In all the schools I have studied, the very first opportunity to say the 'Thought for the Day" would find me say this Thought.

In life as well, often at every other crossroad when I find a so called lack of good luck, I find my mind turn again to the same Thought.

I have found reasons to trust this saying. For a river beset with a tough path sees more of the world in it's winding way. The easy lucky path tries less, shows less, teaches less.

In my teens I had written a poem titled 'The Worst'. I loved that poem more than any other poem I had written at that time, but unluckily I lost the whole collection. Today I feel like rewriting it. I remember only a few lines and I am gonna recreate just two stanzas from the old poem around the words I can remember

The worst?

The worst is nature's naughty mask,

to wring out all for a worthy task.

The worst can sure be the hardest whack,

but it tests our teeth and weighs our stack.

Look the worst in the eye, pull its mask aside;

for sure you will find life smiling wide

When the worst does fall, got to deal it right...

For the 'hardest nut', has a soft inside....!

..........................

And now a fresh small poem celebrating the fact that there are people who trust and love my words. Most people notice things on a pedestal, but it is such a greater joy to be noticed when still in the mud. It is also a poem for all those who happen to be....

Fortunately unlucky

Failed again.., Oh yes, as you see..

and may wonder with not the slightest clue

'Are you worthless or just plain unlucky?'

Failed again, Oh yes it's true

It's the eyes of the world that have failed to see

'cause I am good, I am more, I have found anew!

Failed..Failed, it's a word to me

are there any scales that can judge the true?

'Tough luck'.Wrings more.Ah! Fortunately....

Conflict

I have been talking about poetry to a blogger friend and that has put me in the poetic mode.
As topic, I am choosing to write in verse, something I had painted in oil a few years back which I had titled conflict..It depicted a conflict between reality and ideals and how it can feel like two forces are pulling you to two opposite directions, each demanding that you believe in them and not the other. We want to believe in ideals but reality keeps pulling us to the ground...
These two(reality and Ideals) are more often than not... poles apart. We have to close our eyes to the reality so that we can believe in Ideals.
This poem comes to terms with these two mutually excluding phenomenon. Accepting that they rarely come together...

Conflict

Dreams fly and soar,they are wings fluttering free
Truth grounds and floors,it is earth rooting me
Am I flying am I rooted, or ‘conflict’ in entirety!

Oh the sky has its pull, but the roots have their hold
Yet mind is never still, though the past put in mould
Yes, there are the wishes....then there is the practicality!

I move to a future, then move back to a past
I am pulled, I am held, I am tearing apart
Oh I stop the striving, ‘Pull apart to a rarity!’

The light shines on me, but darkness doesn’t leave
In my hands there is joy, but inside there is grief
Bright..are the ideals, untouched...reality.

Moving On

On someone dear's suggestion, I am writing one of my blogs as a poem. I am writing about moving on because that is the only constant thing in my life. Changing place, making a new world and moving on; half forgetting the past as some past life, past birth that left half a memory.. sweet bitter; loved despised. But it leaves some questions... what is all of it worth, that I have to leave behind? Why all the investment in a home, in friends when it has to be left behind, when I have to eventually move on? It is a question on life itself. something like what the book of Eclestiastics says- 'Everythng is Meaningless'

MOVING ON

Why work up sand castles,
when the tide will bring it down?
why smile at the sea,
and go on building on?
when nothing lasts time,
there is only the moving on.

Would there stay a joy
'it was best it was tall'?
will there be an ache
'oh! the tide, oh! the fall'?
thinking back or moving on,
what does last through it all?

Does it thrill looking back,
or deep does it grieve?
for time even dims,
beloved memories.
clutching all or moving on?
clawing in on the breeze?

There is joy there is pain
in the stride, in the toss,
of the dreams fulfilled
but left far across.
moving on with a gain,
moving on with a loss.

With a smile full of cheer
on a heart that is worn,
to dreams yet to come
when the day is so gone,
to another world unknown
is forever, the moving on.