Treasure Island

veeraiyah subbulakshmi


invisible future..


Half the size of the golf balls,
Folded, holding something usual,
When I touch the corners of petals,
He catches my finger to show his love.

No baby is born with open fists,
As if carrying the gifts from God’s shelves,
They may have the seeds of various sorts,
The DONOR recycles what He receives day and night.

A few remove the evil seeds from the God,
And plant the good seeds to germinate,
A few throw the seeds as they are given,
disperse the acts of good and evil as per instruction.

We are born with the pre recorded GPS,
Where and how to go, a few may crawl and the rest may fly.
The yellow sunshine from the God’s eye,
May lighten up the heavily clouded hearts.

Let us sow, reap and send back the tax returns,
Let us have the happiness to carry forward,
Let us have the smile to stamp every page of our life,
This life belongs to us; wear the armor of self respect.

Submitted: Sunday, April 21, 2013
Edited: Monday, April 22, 2013

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