be a feather.
drop gently.
fall softly.

be a father.
caress gently.
whisper softly.

be a scientist.
hypothesize gently.
theorize softly.

be a poet.
live gently.
die softly.

-

कुछ लोग मंदिर चाहते हैं राम के लिए ।
और कुछ मंदिर चाहते हैं आराम के लिए ।।

-

My therapist suggests that I write more often.
It's easier said than done.

True, there are words swirling willy-nilly,
but nothing moves me to give them shape.
Most of them sound silly, and there is no poem,
no anchor to hold them in place.

It seems I have to erect the structure,
compose the piece, but I'm stranded here.
I wait for the firecrackers to go off on the top floor,
only to find myself stuck with a grumpy gathering
of grey cells tasked with "finding inspiration".

The world once effortlessly held me in its clutch,
kept me fed on a diet of constant awe.
But now I must manufacture the crackers,
birth a worthless recreation. I must dig and claw.

I wish I had a therapist.

-

Honest love springs from hatred
of all that is not love.

-

Unfortunate World.

(piece in caption)

-

Why is it that our idea of a perfect life is always in reference to a date in the future? Why is it that we can never bring our finger to rest on a moment from our past and exclaim, "At this exact point of my existence, I was living a perfect life"?

Is there a fundamental flaw here? Maybe, "perfect life" is an oxymoron. Or, perhaps, perfection is a spectrum with a meter in which the levels are always middling, thanks to the average lives we lead.

Maybe, at the moment of death, our perfection meter shall peak.

-

sadness without a cause,
not visceral, but a surface loss,
hope and optimism not to be
found in their usual place,
a whole spirit misplaced,
and sadness, like hot water,
seeps through the dregs
of my consciousness, silent
trails that will evaporate
leaving behind stains

this too shall pass
this shall stay, too

-

For the longest time I thought I was
meant to write beautiful poems;
little did I know I was meant to live one.

-

Move forward slowly---make zen progress.
Take everybody who identifies with you by their hand
and hold the world in place, or safely transport it
to a hitherto undiscovered land of peace.

Listen to soft music. Read calming words.
This map is for you just to take the first few steps.
Afterwards, who you bloom into will depend
on the impressions you allow to form on your mind.

Amidst this zeitgeist of creativity, you are not
the hand striking out of the crowd for recognition
but the arms that ensconce us in the universe.
Envelope us in your gentle embrace.
Hold us all tight.

You are the hope.
You are the music.
You are the smile that comfort brings.

-

How much does love matter to you?

Whether in it or outside,
do you analyse love under a microscope?
Do you appreciate the striations of this emotion,
the physical conditions that go into this chemical cocktail?
Do you balance the equation of insecurity and vulnerability
with the catalyst of open conversations?
In the face of hormonal anomalies,
do you remain inert, maintaining inertia?
Or worse, do you gravitate to the pulls
of jealousy, possessiveness, anxiety?
Will you let them set the warehouse of our memories on fire?
If you do, will you emerge from the ashes and cinder to love again,
or will you disappear with the flames?

-