Eunoia
When life keeps pricking you deep,
Like the desert wind kissed thorns,
Each one stinging your conscience,
Leaving you scarred and painful,
Yet you decide to bloom,
Yet you decide to stay fragrant,
Yet you decide to showcase your true beauty,
That’s Eunoia.
You and I have adorned these hues for long,
We have been identified with and been judged for the same,
Let’s change our identities,
Let’s give room to another set of judgements,
Let’s exchange our colours.
perspective : desire : colours
A lack, a loss,
A pain, a suffering,
A broken dream,
An unfulfilled desire,
A longing of eons,
A want of ages,
All make us feel,
Life is over.
But the truth is,
A lack makes space,
For something else,
To fill in.
A loss gives a chance,
To gain wisdom.
A pain makes one accept,
That life is not all roses,
Some thorns are needed,
To make the journey worthwhile.
The suffering is a stage,
Which transforms one,
To unveil the light,
Of the inner self.
A broken dream,
Inspires to dream again.
An unfullied desire,
Keeps the fire alive,
To keep going and achieving.
A longing of eons,
Makes one realise,
The value of a moment.
A want of ages,
Makes one understand,
The fleeting nature of things.
And one comes to a conclusion,
Behind this lack,
Behind this loss,
Behind this pain,
Behind this suffering,
Behind this broken dream,
Behind this unfufilled desire,
Behind this longing of eons,
Behind this want of ages,
Something still remains.
life: learning : truth
How do we make children learn new things? I do it with poems and stories. A little girl is learningto read time on a clock and what better than a poem to make her understand this.
A little child was learning to read time and understand its value. But no one to clear her doubts. The clock saw this, and called the little child.
Hello my dear kid,
“I am a roud clock, and I keep ticking nonstop.
I have three arms, all of different sizes.
The longest and thickest shows the hours,
From one to twelve, two times a day,
The shorter arm runs in minutes,
From one to sixty every hour,
The thinnest arm ticks every second,
60 times in a minute.”
The child got excited, and asked the clock, but what is your use?
The clock smiled and said,
“O my dear child,
The moment you are born,
To the moment you die,
And every moment between it,
Is numbered.
Humans are bound by time,
And I help you in different ways,
To wake up for school,
And attend a class,
Go for a play with pals,
And rest in the night.
For children need to learn,
To grow up as adults,
And make a living,
Just like your parents do.
But, what’s a child without some fun,
So some time devoted to play,
For few hours everyday,
Making a child happy and gay.
I guide you always,
To spend the day wisely,
And this goes for years,
And an entire lifetime.”
The girl danced in joy,
On knowing the importance of time,
And ran to her friends,
For a fun time in the day.
Do you feel the past, of some other lifetime? Does it feel you live a certain part of it even now? An unexplainable heaviness that others do not understand. For the believers of karma, a poetry to express this feeling.
The Lines
When the soul feels gloomy and hollow,
When the eyes look stark and shallow,
When the existence seems arid and fallow,
When one feels lost,figuring which path to follow.
When painfully many such lives untimely swept,
When nothing substantial stayed or is left,
When the tormented soul silently wept,
It’s nothing but one’s own karmic debt.
That traps the mind, the thought process,
The cognition and senses start to regress.
The reality seems detached, Only the subconscious sublimity prevails,
When the thought of an undeciphered but deeply sensed past persistently sails.
When the Unfathomable depths of times passed by urge to trace back to start,
But the hurdled present pulls the soul to a direction completely different, poles apart.
Still the soul struggles to find peace with the past,
And continues to challenge this present life till its seeming end-death, the soul’s physical last.
KARMA: LIFETIMES: DEBT
Tulip Brook 