In Search of You!

I am here at the altar,

I beseech You for an answer,

I saw you wandering in the dark,

and running seamless in a streak of light,

I saw you singing at a shrine,

I saw you crying at the funeral of a loved one,

I saw you angered by the mob that chased you and

the kids that poked you with a stick because you

were homeless and dirty, you were crazy they said,

I saw you praying in synagogue, I saw you kneeling in a church,

I saw you in a mosque, I could say you were at home,

I saw you raging in the waters and thundering in the clouds,

I saw you red, I saw you green, I saw you in the rainbow,

And on the palette of an artist, wanting to be painted,

Yearning to be seen,

I saw you in the wisdom of an old man’s whisper,

and in the follies of the youth that sees nothing but his dreams,

I looked around and I saw you, I closed my eyes and I saw you,

I looked at me and I saw you,

I saw you as I saw me,

I was wondering if you could tell me,

All this while,

had I been looking for myself?!


The wings of Gabriel

o withered soul of lonesome child,

knowst thee not hope,

nor love divine,

but wail you doth, how often beguiled,

not sorrow, nor circumstance,

you are but a victim of deciet,

a heart as that doth not produce,

the love that maketh angels fly

and humans soar where Gabriel cant.


Give me your heart,

your soul,

your flesh & bone,

Give me,

Give me your sorrows,

your wails, the pains you

carry, give me your burden,

Let me carry you across,

Here, lean on my shoulder,

or cry if you please,

bring me all your suffering,

bring me your tears,

and your dreams that broke,

bring me stories of the love you lost

bring me your heartache, bring

me despair, bring me your darkest fear,

bring me your shame, bring me your

loss, bring me all that burdens your heart,

bring me all that wears down your youth,

and poisons your sweet old age,

bring me bitterness, bring me your anger,

your cries that you cried not out loud,

when you bring me all of this,

my dear,

here, I give you a canvass new,

a shinny day,

paint your picture & paint it well.

I give you life,

now live it well!

Anatomy of choice

The life we choose to live is the result of the choices we make. Our path is determined not by singular decisions but rather by our reaction to what comes our way.

I have been searching for questions far longer than I have been for answers. Inquisition has been the theme of my life. We do the things we do, unaware, till we realize what we are doing and certain patterns began to emerge – our characters are formed. Good or bad, we spend the rest of our lives thinking along those patterns, defending our choices which initially were not the result of profound thought rather an accident.

The Reluctant writer

“Relax!”….  was the first word that came to mind while  being flooded with ideas and excess of imagination. It is amazing how easy or difficult we can make life for ourselves. My present state of mind identifies me with many around the world equally troubled by intellectual indigestion. Knowing too much can sometimes be as bad as knowing too little. In the former case one hesitates in arranging the information while expressing it so that it may be received well by others and in the latter, the reluctance to express the little knowledge is accrued from the feeling that such ordinary information may be received as superficial and would undermine the image of the person expressing it.

In the back drop of such similar thoughts and some more, i finally decided to write. The reason is as follows:

I have been given a canvas to paint on; a life to live.

The clock is ticking on us all and to be restrained by ones self from enjoying  life would by the greatest lament of all when the energy wears out. So I shall write all the good that i feel and do all the good that i can… this is the prelude to my story.