My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing……..Marcel Proust.
When the storm blows,
The trees that are straight
Are first to be broken in pieces.
Never be too proud of being too straight
And laugh at those who are not.
Oftentimes, I have heard you laugh
At the tattered and the torn,
The despaired and broken by loneliness,
The shards of frozen tears
Of children abandoned in streets,
The carnivalesque desire of women,
Hideously pedophile men lurking,
The hyperbolic use of monstrous lies,
The oligarchs and self-appointed
Maniacal masterminds creating rain
And sunshine when they wish
To fit in their hidden agendas.
And yet, these men and women
Are not strangers to your world.
Like angels, they can tread on your path.
Think of the contemporary dilemmas,
Those left home to convalesce,
Those undergoing chemotherapy,
And those enduring a prolonged hospitalization.
They might be settling a karmic debt
And ignorance made you laugh at them.
Can anyone of you escape the wheel of karma,
O man! drink from wisdom’s spring
Be not a harp without string.
Just like the preacher and the righteous
Cannot fly beyond the highest
Which is present in each one of you,
So, the sinner and the wicked
Cannot fall lower than the lowest
Which is in you also.
Every stone is a piece of art
And every man is a work of creation.
Attempt the impossible and succeed
To reflect the stark realities of life.
You need not enter a black hole
To see other realities.
From a hole you came
And to a hole you will go.
This one life is nothing
But a learning curve.