spiritual seeker

Among thieves and murderers,
There is no honour among them,
They plunder and kill,
lied behind their smiles,
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Stars are always there in the sky,
Though sometimes hidden by dark clouds of the night,
Or blinded by the brightness of daylight,
Stars are always there in the sky.
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We had build this dream house of ours,
A little house under the clouds,
with beautiful garden and trees,
and five little stars shining above.
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When humanity is lost,
When greed and anger took the scales,
And justice thrown far faraway,
We only see trials of tears.
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That little smile in your face, a gift better than gold,
Will break the stony barriers between strangers,
Will mean a world of difference to someone,
Will warm up the chill in someone’s heart,
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Seen you so many delightful bright yellow sunflowers?
Greeting the morning sunrays, openly smiling,
Swaying playfully under the cool morning breeze,
Happily kissing those bees come regularly visiting.
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In my clear dream,
I was digging the soft ground.
To my utmost happiness I found a piece of shiny pure white stone.
Happily I put it inside my pocket and rushed to take home.
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She is black and she is tall,
A little shy…
Spoke so softly, I could hardly hear her voice.
-Sit down please. What is your good name?
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Wise words are like fresh sweet water,
It's source from the pure white snow in the distant mountains..
That have stood over nature's temper,
battered by the howling winds over centuries.
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Look at the floating bubbles!
With colours of the rainbows,
Rising gently to the open blue sky,
Happiness for all.
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Look at the rain drops!
Like precious pearls from the sky,
A blessing for thirsty earth,
Bursting life after death.
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If you happen to pass my little mount,
Open your heart to its silent sound,
Hear my hollow forgotten song,
Of cruelty, injustice and all that wrong.
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See this stump of a tree…
ravished before by a terrible storm,
It’s new shoots has grown big,
And now bearing again the sweetest flowers and fruits.
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Today you come again,
O little birds on my tree,
In numbers playing and singing,
Jumping from little branch to little branch,
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In a village factory,
Women old and young…
Roasting cashew nuts in black rusty barrels,
Faces and sarees darkened in soot,
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Twilight,
Every time my bus passed this Bangalore road,
It never stopped to amaze me.
The streets are always busy with activities,
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Between a dry desert and a green valley,
Where will you prefer to be?

To build a home and raise my family,
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