Precious

Why did I befriend you, what did i like
Was it the eyes, shaped by kajal
Pearls jet black, chanchal, dancing
As if swimming, in shapely ponds of white
You always knew, when I got lost in them

Was it your nose, slender and small
Or your chin, and clear-cut features
Was it your gait, unhurried and elegant
Or your speech, and politeness that poured

Was it your smile, half-closing the eyes
Composed, yet genuine; unattached, yet belonging
You laughter too, with similar traits
Would only add, to the mystery that is You

There is something deeper, must be spiritual
Within you, waiting, to find expression
You must find it, for in that lies
The calling, the purpose, to your life

Of all said, maybe this, I liked most
The fact you are there, but still very quiet
That hold you one may, and still not touch
Hear you with intent, but still not read

Wisdom

These mountains that we, thoughtlessly drill
Have for aeons embraced, and pacified
That anger of storms, Winds at rage

Yes, this very breeze, purifying our blood
It would lose its sanity, over periods of time
As breath flowing through nadis, bruised and cut
For can a son bear, the abuse of Mother Earth
By his very brother, the youngest, called Man

But the Mountain, the eldest, keeps his calm
Stops his brother, and then begins to remind:
Don't you love Him too, perhaps more than me
Chose willingly, in doting selfless love
To enrich Him through, the first moment to his last

Immature He is, corrupted by his powers
Not aware is He, we bestowed him with these
He hurts me, pollutes you, and your younger the Water
Claims intellect, but not fathom, the havoc borne
On his own lifespan, and that of his child..

Your anger instigates water, there look he follows
Oh wait my sister, not yet a time to punish
For He is composed, of you and our mother
In him you cause pain, to self and the mother
Think of that if not, to heed to this brother's words

Yes I know he stains, the very identity of His own
Blocks your path and redirects, upon his will
Also hurt his sister, plants now crippled yet compassionate
Her mute tears, not of her loss, but His

I know not of the mind, gifted to Him with vision
Which yet leads him away, filled with hatred and greed
But forget not even, if he kills me one day
He is our own, made from the each of us
His blood will only fall, on the body of our mother
His life he will lose, in the witness of our father

So together let us, meditate and pray
To our father the sun, and mother who carries us
To embrace us: For that would be moksha, not death
As with contemplation eternal, I have realized
That Man came to being, only to end
The cycle of creation, which their separation had set

Prayer

I pray now, to the Goddess of Maths
Whom I love, but have not, been devoted to
Amme, give me peace, manasamaadhaanam
My talents restless, wait to manifest
As the caterpillar out, to break its cocoon

Make me like the ant, one with discipline and courage
He is able to carry, much more than he weighs
Make me like the lion, who lives up to his greatness
He has natural confidence, fit for a king
Make me like the monkey, not afraid to lose
With intellect and flex, he reaches many a high branch

But yes keep me as a man, aware of his Self
Mature and composed, despite all going ons
Carrying patience and agility, with equal ease
Living not only for self, but those before and after
Responsible for his actions, and compassion for all

Motivation

What do I desire, what do I want
My failures have never, been for lack of will
Am I too practical, for risk taking that reigns
Or get tired too soon, for the mountain to climb

To put in effort, is all to be done
And derive satisfaction, by doing what you love
Confidence supreme, in oneself and God
For to have less, is suspecting his gifts

Thirst of Mind

Even today this mind, has dreams to fulfill
A thirst none can, but its own satisfaction quench
I search the waters, I can reach to drink
Perhaps abhore a moment, at the end to repent

I must try be earnest, in all that I can
Think high and put effort, leap while I can
The thought of moment, is always a moment too soon
For darkest it is, just before a dawn

Desire and Love

What maketh a man, so full of desires
Is desires life, or the meaning of it
Is desire the purpose, that set off creation
Is desire the only means, to bring its worthy end

Man made it this far, top of the food chain
Evolved, conquered, controls almost all
Thought, created, made buildings of jungles
Craved, thirsted, achieved all of this

Man had reasons simple, to survive and sustain
His hunger drove him, to kill
His instinct instilled in him, to reproduce
Emotion inspired him, to create
And intellect led him, to invent

What holds this together, yet from all consuming greed
Is it love, that he longs, to hold hands with his wife
Is it love, that he watches, the birds and the flowers
Is it love, that he does, good deeds to brighten, the day of another