Fly High

Fly High

Hey fairy, Fly High!

Spread your wings far wide,
Let the invisible wind hold you like a tide!

The bright new world of possibilities,
The mega trends, and the new abilities.

Hone them, and Ride them!
before they do wane.

Create your own wave
your own path shall you pave

You are unique like the fragrance of the sea breeze
Sacred like the divine dance of the trees

Voice that echoes the song of the Gods,
Be yourself - the Almighty applauds!

But as you grow you learn,
All your good deeds always return.

Play hard with all your might,
Always do what is right!

Create a change, make a difference.
Be a harbinger of a new order hence!

Years have passed,
Weathers have changed,

Distances have grown.
Flowers have withered on their own.

Seven seas far, there is a little heart ordinary,
That still beats for your well being, all weary.

There are things that are strong and stubborn, 
Connected to you like the worshipful morn!

Knotted forever with the string of Love.
Never to let go even one glimpse of your glow!
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Bright Cheeks and Starry Eyes

18/04/2019, 10:47:26

THE BRIGHT CHEEKS AND STARRY EYES.

That shining golden flow,
The glistening sparkle of luminescence!
Lingers the radiance of some flare eternal,
From the deep depth of that primordial Light ushers,
When I look at your bright cheeks and the starry eyes!

The light that is no ordinary!
The light that inspires the vigor of life.
The light that showers on the mortals,
The warmth of an enlivening blessing,
The blessing that whispers softly yet resolutely,
The stubbornness of being uptight,
Inspired by Love, Truth, Devotion and Faith.
When I look at your bright cheeks and the starry eyes!

Every morning wears a sheen new,
Every sound transforms to a symphony,
Every gust of wind,
Caresses the deepest chords of a meditative heart!
Life in every form and every stage,
Appears brimming with a youthful excitement.
As if every ticking moment as a hidden promise,
A promise that elicits the ardor to blossom,
With that immortal flamboyance! No matter what!
When I look at your bring cheeks and the starry eyes!

18/04/2019, 11:33:06

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

It is not about God!

It is not about God!
It is about Devotion.

It is not about the Guru!
It is about Discipleship.

It is not about the beloved!
It is about Love

It is not about the family!
It is about Kinship.

It is not about the friend!
It is about Friendship.

It is not about the destination!
It is about the Journey.

For all thing visible,
Is just a reflection as is,
Of the beatitude of the invisible,
Spirit and soul of the Beholder!

For Essentials are not only invisible,
But also Within!

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Space!

Space! Yes it is the Space!
Empty space, that matters.
The source of everything Beautiful
Is that empty space.

The distance between me and Thou,
The gap maintained by the
Language constructs,
The punctuation and annotation,
The discontinuity in time and space.
The differences in interests, values and priorities.
The difference of comprehension,
The contrast of existence,
The difference in sensibilty.
Yes, it is the space between me and Thou,
That keeps the life going,
O Lord!

That known despair that
I shall never see Thou,
Neither touch or hear Thou,
Keeps me continue the breath,
Making stories in my mind,
Reflecting my own limitation,
Mirroring my own humanity,
Falling short every now and then.

I continue the journey,
I continue breathing.
Rejoicing within me the hallucination
That I am in the path to reach Thou.

The distance between the Sun
And the fragile vine.
The distance between the child's eyes,
And the twinkle in it from
The distant star,
The void of empty space,
Protectively padding the planets.
Keeps the love story going
Of Galaxies millions!

The hollowness of the flute,
The emptyness of the breath,
The distance woven by the culture,
By the providence and destiny,
Conspire together to keep the opera on!

The tainted blue glass,
Appears so, for it gives out that color.
A rose inspires,
For it gives out unconditionally
Her intoxicating fragrance,
And her flamboyant countenance.
In the act of giving,
A space is created!
An empty space to breathe and be.
And yes, Magic happen.

Whenever had the greed
Overtaken man to destroy the space,
Wars have been fought,
Jealosy have been sown,
Hatred have been fermented,
Death had been caused!

And then again!
Death weaves the space,
The distance and longing!
And again another story is created.
Another poem written!

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The dark side of me!

How easily I judge,
Continuing to proclaim to the world,
Each time you judge someone,
You have a part of you yet to be healed!

How easily I succumb to hatred,
Continuing to proclaim,
Don't hate, meditate!

How easily I lie,
Continuing to proclaim,
I hate you lying.

How easily I get enamoured
By novelty and freshness,
Of ideas, books, perspectives.
Continuing to judge the other as manipulative,
For their natural urge to explore!

How easily I become a rude and harsh Scrooge!
Continuing to disdain his dryness and materialism.

How easily I mistake friends as my commodities,
Continuing to preach Eric Fromm
And his message of to "be"
Instead to "have".

How eaily I judge carefree freedom of others,
As shallow promisquity.
Continuing to proclaim
The uprightness of humanism and inclusivity.

How easily I slip into narrow totalitarianism,
Continuing to proclaim the wisdom of
Diversity, freedom, liberty and choice!

How easily I turn into the inertia of the "Mahisasur"
Continuing to proclaim the wisdom
Of the divinity of the "Devi".

How easily I take to extremes,
Continuing to proclaim,
The truth and profundity
Of the "Middle Path" and balance.

How easily I slip into
Delusive childish ways,
Continuing to proclaim
The wisdom of childlike simplicity.

How easily I let my mind
Be overtaken by self created delusions,
Continuing to proclaim
Respect, objectivity and humility.

How easily I cross that invisible line,
Differentiating humanism and barbarianism.

O Lord, I offer my head in your Lotus Feet.
Shamelessly I continue to ask thy forgiveness.
And yet again, I stand up and ask,
Give me that strength to be a Human!
A grown up full Human!

May Thou continue to be alive and potent,
Seated on the altar of my heart,
Inspiring me and holding me,
Enabling me to fufill my purpose,
Of growing to be a Human!

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Abheek's Rendezvous with the Sage

Walking down the coastline of the Andamans,
Abheek in depth of melancholy
Was trying to cry out loud
Through the tumultuous waves of the ocean.

He knew he was wronged by Vibha.
He knew his world was all devastated.
He lost his most precious one.
And that too - just like that!
Out of a whim of the other!
A deluge of hatred, self-pity and anger
Was washing him off.
He shouted, "Why me, why me, why me??"
"What did not I do for her?"

The moon was reflecting the light from atop.
She was calm, accepting and quiet.
Ancient stars were twinkling from eternity,
Watching Abheek with empathy and care.

Walking down the sea shore,
Abheek's eyes got stuck to the grand full moon,
With all her beauty.

Suddenly the thought came to him,
Why was the nature so beautiful,
Why was the nature so happy!
It was as if a beautiful flower,
Thriving on the sad and spent bed of compost!
He was feeling like that compost,
Which was all spent and sacrificed,
For the happiness of all around!
Was there not such a big smile of happiness
And refreshing fulfillment in her twinkling eyes,
When she just snapped everything off? Everything!

In his mind he could see,
All gray compost - all in black and white,
With the bring yellow and red happy petals,
Thriving with joy!
He was sad. Very sad.
And she was all happy and indifferent!!!

Something happened suddenly.
His left feet was stuck behind,
As he was walking forward.
He turned and saw the mutilated sand,
Holding his feet.

The sand appeared to him as a sage,
A sage who was deep in meditation,
And his feet just fell on his head.
The sage was all wet.
Abheek thought it was tears of being wronged!
Apologized Abheek immediately to the sage.
The sage smiled, and said,
"My tears are of not sadness, but of joy!"
No feet can wrong me, No matter how it appears.

Abheek was curious at the speaking sand.
He squatted and came nearer to the sand.
He asked, then what wrongs thou, O sage?
The sage smiled again with tranquility,
It is my arrogance and jealousy
That wrongs me. It is not your feet,
But my pride, that holds me higher than your feet!

Being one with One dream of the God,
The sage continued,
I can see God in all creation, in all circumstances,
In everything around!
What appears mutilation and being wronged to you,
Is just a "prasadam" for me, O Abheek!
"Prasadam" from the all pervading Self!
To show me the Truth.

As Abheek sat there, listening the sage,
The wave of the ocean came on,
And washed away the sage forever!
The sage disappeared in the vastness of that night!
Abheek did not know when the sage of born,
And why suddenly he perished!
He questioned the ruthless indifference of nature!

But then, from somewhere,
The soul of the sage whispered in his ears,
"It is my arrogance and jealousy that wrongs me,
Not nature or anything out there!"

(PS - This is part of my forthcoming novel - MISFIT. Abheek Bose is the main protagonist of the story)
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Recurrence of Loss

So Abheek continued...
I used to think the cloud fades just once.
But then I realized it fades continuously,
Each moment, forever - leaving that sinking emptiness in heart,
Till eternity.

I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile.
Without telling you things and hearing your voice back!
I used to think atlast I got you forever!
Like the two sides of the river,
I thought we will live together till eternity in that bond ecstatic!

Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard
But the next was harder.
And I knew with a sinking feeling
It was going to get worse and
I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time!
A very very long time!
Probably Never!

Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event.
It doesn't just happen once.
It happens over and over again.
I lose you every time I think of RS
I lose you every time I think of A'L
I lose you every time I listen to that song
I lose you every time I watch that movie
I lose you every time your favorite phrases appear in my memory!

I lose you every time I think of kissing you,
Holding you or wanting you.
I go to bed at night just to lose you again.
And when I wish I could tell you about my day,
Start from the early morning or then after the tired long day,
I lose you again.

With every breath I take in, I inhale a painful prick in my heart of your loss,
With every breath I release, I give away another moment of my life,
Sanctified with your bleeding Loss of your nearness.

Is this just a loss? Or is it something more?
For it is my own sacred secret.
It is my own sanctum, my special personal altar!
It is something very special - my own,
Which none can take away!
Its my well-cherished love,
My well-cherished pain!
For more than a decade of this life,
And countless births before..
Is not just another story of love!
It is a saga of the pursuit of God!

Praying for you...
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Love Laden Eyes

Beauty is visible only to
The love laden eyes.
For love cleanses and shows the truth.
Without love, all beauty is undone!

From the blind darkness
Of the potential in the womb,
Redeemed is the soul,
To behold the preciousness of the world -
Beauty and magnificence,
All visible through,
The love laden eyes.
Birthing to the sacred promise,
Of being human!

In the beginning was only love -
The only truth.
And then one soul lost herself to the other,
And was a creation in the womb -
Of a potential - of a possibility,
Of a promise of love renewed!

On this day auspicious,
Celebrates the world,
The cause of all what is so beautiful -
The stance of Motherhood -
The stand of love,
The stand of beauty,
The stand of truth!

The spirit of Simoni blesses all mothers -
The genesis of life, love and inspiration!
On this auspicious and holy day!

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Love dieth not

It's not that love dies
Rather its the focus on love
That gets dissipated by
The ignoble forces of our nature
Which haunts us
In the form of 
The shallow busyness 
Of  the daily life!

The vocation of Simoni
Is to be centered on his Love,
And the trance of the beauty
Of the most beautiful eyes.
Focused and ever creative,
Not lured by the easy busyness
Of the daily life.

Through his songs, work and toil
Simoni continues to nurture 
His meditation on his love -
His ever youthful love,
Rediscovering himself every dawn,
In the ever fresh and warm blessings
Of the Golden Deluge of the sage Sun.

As Sun re-kindles his fire of ardor 
Of his Love for the Moon,
Recreating and realizing it anew forever.
So does Simoni,
Through his art and inspiration,
Reclaims his redemption 
Every new morn, and every new eve.

It's not that love dies
Rather its the focus on love
That gets dissipated by
The ignoble forces of our nature
Which haunts us
In the form of 
The shallow busyness 
Of  the daily life!

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Copyright© Samrat Kar. Kar Conversations.

Not the boulder but the Lotus

The blue clear gem
Lay abandoned
Amongst the lifeless boulders -
Arrogant and numb to life.
They proclaimed of having known the truth -
The futility of love and life!
For the black boulders
Were serious and veterans-
They knew all are transient shadows
To bind them to painful attachments.
Hence they lived undisturbed and unconnected,
In that far away world,
Foreign to any season of life and love.

In there stony heartless being,
They missed the point -
Were they not being attached to
The aversion to attachment?
Would ask the blue clear gem -
For he could see through the mirage.
Wanted it to transcend
Its limited predicament among the boulders black.

Eons of penance he did,
Passing through the burns
Of the blazing sun,
And the intimidating thirst.
But never he allowed his own clarity
To be blackened following the destiny
Of the boulders black.

Mother Earth could not bear
The burden of his pleadings.
Nor could creation take it anymore.
There was on one sunny day
Sudden springs of fresh water
Did burst out of the heavy heart
Of the Earth.
Saplings sprouted,
Flowers blossomed,
Clouds came and yielded to rain.

The springs and the fountains
Of satiating joyous water
Embraced the land all around
The clear blue gem.
Purified he became,
Of the veil of doubt,
Gushed was he
To the bank of a newly formed pond.

The new love and life of water
Brought seasons of freshness
and bounty all around.
The clear gem glistened at the bank
In playful moments
With the fishes and frogs.

There was a Lotus white
Right in the middle of the pond.
Mingled in all what was around,
Wet was it but damp was it not!

The clear blue gem
Saw in front what he was yearning for
An equanimity to both
Craving and aversion!

The lotus was at peace
Surrendered to all around -
The ruffles of wind, moss around
The freshness as well as the stink.
Neither was it fallen in attachment
Giving in to the wilting dampness,
Nor was it averse as a concrete slab.

Passing through the play
Of life and love,
Of the form and the formless,
Meandering through the valleys
Of drought and deluge,
The lotus saw all, played all, loved all!
But was always open and transfixed
To the Unity - the Absolute
Overarching the thousands interplay of forms and shadows.

The senses, the forms, the pains and joy -
All were gateways real and concrete
For the lotus to know the One!

The clear blue gem was enlightened!
He transformed to a shrine.
A shrine of love and life.
A shrine beyond attachment and aversion.
A shrine thriving in the sensuality
And the juice of life and love,
Knowing the One in process.

The Lotus was wet.
But never damp.
The shrine was a stone.
But never without spirit
Of the clear blue gem.

_____________ ____________ ____________
Copyright © Samrat Kar

Beyond Right and Wrong

Beyond what is right,
And what is wrong -
There lies a valley pristine.
I will meet you there!

How simple it is to see through
And find faults, O Lord!
But isn't life not
A court for judgment?
Isn't it not at all,
An examination to pass?

For every sigh of Love,
Is nourished with the will
To suspend that disbelief,
To be blind to that shortcoming.
It is that poetic ardor,
To see the beloved as the Goddess.
Isn't every inspiration
An experiment with naive idealization?
Is not romantic fatalism,
The bedrock of a potent existence?

Sitting on the rock by the sea,
Simoni watches with amazement,
The love-making in the starry night,
Of the moon and the sea!
Had not the sea not even noticed
The blemishes of the moon?
Or might it not have
Created a romantic poetry
Out of the stuck stag in her,
Who is housed in its shyness
Of helpless and profound love?

As he plays the melody of love,
Through his gentle flute,
Simony spreads the symphony of Life,
Singing the voice of Beauty and Love,
Beyond what is right
And what is wrong!

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Copyright © Samrat Kar. KarConversations.

Destined to Love

Simoni sat on his shrine.
Was he meditating on his breath.
Thoughts from past,
Shallow and profound
Paid their visit unasked.
Like an old and bosom friend,
He welcomed them,
Made them feel comfortable,
And continued being one
With his breath.

The Sun, wind, rain and trees
The Earth, rivers, oceans and falls,
The songs, poems,
Equally the noise and discord,
All held Simoni amidst
Life's tapestry -
Alive in equanimity.

With all was Simoni in love!
All were special,
All were attractive
All were luscious.
For he knew,
The source of love and life,
Was not out there,
But very much within!
It was single and undivided,
The One.

Simoni was not destined
To be in love with just an aspect one.
But he was destined to be in love.
Just be in love.

For he knew the lady with the most beautiful eyes,
Shows up sometimes
As a silent and stoic canyon,
Or at times as the passionate and loud ocean.
Sometimes she is a pang of the most painful pain,
Or at times she is
Grace of healing love.
She is omnipresent all around,
Transcending time and space,
As the essence of life and love,
In forms innumerable and dissipated.

Meditating on the One truth,
The essence of his beloved,
Simoni continued his eternal journey,
To be in love,
In his sanctuary of meditation.

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Copyright © All rights reserved. Samrat Kar.

Its all about getting back home

As the breath leaves, it rushes to get back home.
The new born is already in its path to get back,
At the altar of death, beyond which it belongs.
The dawn is counting its moments,
To reclaim itself in the dusk,
The creation eager to be back in the quietude
In the lap of Goddess Night.
Its all about getting back home.

Meadows feel the bliss,
Listening to the thunder.
For impending is the shower of union,
To make all feel at rest.
The tired eyes look forward to sleep.
Joy for the spirit,
Health for the body.
Its all about getting back home.

Hidden with all the glitter and never-ending flux
Is the constant ardor and grief,
Whispered faintly in the longing sob of the gray dove,
The leafless tree standing in penance,
For the onset of the spring,
The gushing Ganges flowing onto the sea,
The westerly wind rushing to his beloved,
The fragrance of the incense at the God's altar,
Eagerly diffusing into the limitless expanse of life.
Its all about getting back home.

The essence of life, they ask.
Isn't it the only essence?
Is it the need of bliss,
Or an eternal permanence
Or a sanctuary of solitude?
All what is craved after
Its all about getting back home.


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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

God's Ardor

One step did Simoni take,
And came God running for his sake!

On the Pegasus white,
Galloped Simoni with Her in his arms.
Flying up, mingling with the clouds.
Simoni in his white robe
Was Zeus personified,
And She was Venus embodied!

Sun was golden and the breeze was warm.

All the nature was aroused to see Her beauty. 

The passing wind whispered in Simoni's ears, 

"I envy you, Zeus to have the woman,

With the most beautiful eyes, 

And the body of Gold in ur arms". 

Simoni was proud n grateful, 

But laughed at the naiveté of the wind,

For he knew she was not just a woman, 

Who was in his arms,

But the embodiment of the creation of own Love,

His own God - eternal and ephemeral!

Simoni continued galloping on the horse, 

Her silky hair kept winnowing,

Her luscious bosoms bouncing. 

All were excited in deep pleasure of passion,

The sky, moon, stars and the cosmos!

Her magical moans of fulfillment 

Mingled with the lovelorn wind, echoed all over. 

The sky was stunned to see this magnanimous spectacle on earth. 

The Earth was aroused in that extreme lustful scene. 

Simoni kept galloping and flew in the air. 

For the wind embraced the softness 

Of love within him. 

All fairies and Gods, were singing with pride and accomplishment! 

What an exquisite creation they beheld! 

They sat in penance reclaiming that power of love.

For they knew very well 

Her beauty is the artifact of their own potential!

For they showered the petals of their blessings, 

On Simoni, and Her, on the white Pegasus.

Galloped they, basking in the glory of that celestial love. 

Her magical voice reverberated all around 

Sanctifying the place holier in Her flamboyance. 

What a fantastic vision was it!

For It was a deep trance of Simoni's regular prayers,

To his Lord, his Art, his Love.

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Paper Doll

There stood the paper doll,
Afraid to be alive,
Scared to death would she be,
To risk the stance be throbbing with life,
For she knew then, death cannot be denied!

She remained  a paper doll,
Hidden, frigid and scared throughout,
With impeccable pleats and folds,
Not a drop of water to wet,
Not a speck of dust to be shed.
In the same way she was made,
She remained forever,
Immortal and unchanged!

Seeing the permanence of the youth,
The ever present shimmer,
The never ending glow,
All were attracted to
The paper doll, in a row.

Seeing the gathering of men, young and old,
All around the paper doll,
Simoni passed with a smile of disgust,
For he knew the impeccable shine,
Was death in disguise.

For Simoni knew,
It is not the flesh and form,
That makes one beautiful,
But the grace of activity
That one enters into,
That brings in the beauty,
As a grace ever fresh and new!

For beauty is not in the wings,
But in the flight.
The beauty is not in the mouth,
But in the voice.
The beauty is not in the breasts,
But in the promise of that inseparable warmth,
Of belonging and intimacy.
The beauty is not in the paper or the ink,
But in the poem from a beautiful mind!

People long for a cozy house,
And a palace by the sea,
To rest in peace!
But Simoni knew,
The heaven of peace is not out there,
But in an effort to create that sanctuary,
Out of art, knowledge, skill, efforts and wisdom!

The paper doll remained perfect.
But never could she know what beauty is,
Never could she know what love is.
For love and beauty are the poet's song,
Flowing in the wind of creative efforts.

It is in the handwork of the sweaty nomad life,
It is in the toil of the peasant in sunny fields,
It is in the meticulous chiseling of the sculptor -
Busy searching for his true love.
It is in the twinkle of the fiery star,
Burning in the fire of his love lost.

Simoni, kept walking to the dusky horizon,
He knew not where he was unto.
Only that he knew,
He was weaving a tapestry of Love,
Through his song,
Amidst that dreary desert sand -
Where nothing stayed forever,
But all got created anew,
In fresh promise of eternal love,
Ever youthful promise of eternal beauty!

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Silence of The Woods

Walking amidst the woods,
Simoni could hear
The fading in chirp of birds,

In the darkness after dusk,
The silence gradually devouring all the symphony,
In her lustful silencing embrace.

The music of the lazy river,
The whisper of the smooth wind,
They rest in each other's naked lap,
In that embrace of togetherness,
Voyeured earnestly by all the excited stars.

Such was the silvery deluge of that
Romantic moonlit touch.
Simoni was beginning to connect to all...


The untouched beauty of the
Pristine white lotus,
Stands amidst the cold indifferent pond,
Grounded unaltered
To the warmth of Love.


The black mountain
Mingles with the amorous sky in silence,
Surrendering all its might and pride,
Into the luscious embrace of her softness.


The moon radiating the glow of lovely charm,
Warms the bosom of the cold and frigid pond,
With the desire to be one, re-kindling that passion of lust.
It appeared as just a reflection.
But truth did only Simoni see -
Moon had descended all the way from heavens,
To be one with his love - the pond.
In the quietude of that fateful night.


All was so exquisite,
All was so heart whelming.
But Simoni noticed,
There was no word spoken anywhere.
Yes there was song, there was symphony, there was poetry!
But no words, no syllable no language!


All were in trance loving each other wildly,
There were no words,
But inarticulate cries, meaningless moans,
From the bottom of the most primitive being.
The squirting fountain of nectar of love was profuse, 

Straight from the sanctum of the depth of belly.
A piercing Joy was omnipresent,
Leaving all - 

Empty, Conquered and Silenced!
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Path to Death

I meander through the valleys and hills,
Being the clear stream -
Banked between boredom and thrills.

I remember not, from river which, was I born,
I keep flowing just they way I am,
Know not I, ocean which to shall I fall, worn.

Resilience of being a water,
Is the destiny of being a stream.
All that I know for matter.

Being part of the dynamic whole,
With the open blue Sky,
From the galaxies to the black hole.

The bright warm Sun,
The friendly bedrock of smooth stones,
And accommodating banks ready to be won.

Altogether we fit-in as kith and kin,
Completing each other,
With a faultless overarching sheen.

Privileged am I in this being.
A peaceful yet another vein of life in the cosmos vast,
Seeing myself as not just a disconnected stream.

Being yet another little note,
In the symphony magnanimous,
Feels good to bear a meaningful connectedness to tote.

I meander through the valleys and hills,
Being the clear stream
Banked between boredom and thrills.

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Argument

Simoni's younger little self, pesters him,

That he quit!

For it is nothing but useless hankering 

To knock at thy door. 

Tired and hopeless is he,

Looking at the futility

Of the continuous song,

Of the unending expressions of his love.

He longs for his muse to love him back!

For the God to appear in front of his eyes!

Simoni, confronts his younger self,

Lovingly arguing against his stance,

Standing by the river Nile,

In his white robe,

Being washed by the silvery moon light.

He smiles and looks at the distant star,

and says, "If she loves you back, will you still be who you are?

Mimed will not be your song, if blessed by presence of her?

Probably you would win her,

But will not you lose something more precious?

The preciousness of your pain?"

But then the little self, revolts again, accusing back-

"you romanticize your defeat!"

Simoni, smiles again, gazing at that distant star,

Gives a passing remark, 

"Who knows what is defeat, and what victory is!"

In that profound solitude, 

Simoni, kept walking by the bank of the Nile,

In total surrender to the enigma

Of the suchness of creation.

Questions reverberated from all around,

Sky, Moon, Wind and the river cold,

All stared on to the eyes of Simoni, and asked,

"Why it is that we feel. Why it is that we are!"

In an effort to discover that missing part of the puzzle,

Simoni continued to walk,

By the bank of the Nile.

The ancient start, light years away,

Kept looking at Simoni,

And when he again looked at him,

And their eyes met each other,

Simoni could listen to that silent whisper

From the ancient seer star!

The star twinkles burning 

In the fire of his love.

All alone and abandoned 

In the vastness of the cosmos.

But continues he to twinkle,

Since eons passed by.

For that is what is his destiny.

He is a star after all. 

And he has to twinkle!

He has to burn!

Simoni knew his answer to his little self.

To sing his song was his destiny,

To love was his purpose! 

Went back he, in silence, 

Towards the feet of his God,

In total surrender.

The feet was his altar of love,

He built it with great care and art,

Since ages, one tune at a time, 

One syllable at at time,

Embellished by one song after the other!

The gap of pain between the Nile and the moon,

Was the space in which that beautiful night was created!

The same was the charm of the beauty,

Of the solitary abandonment of the star,

And the lonely journey of Simoni.

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A Wish to God

Wishing u a yet another new beginning 

That aids you to be more fully 

What u are at core - bold n beautiful!
The grand existence, The Nature,
The Cosmic Self!

Wishes from this distant star
Twinkling in solitude millions of light years away
Might be unsolicited and unwanted,
But they r relevant for sure!

Grounded are they in that strong desire 

Of thine wellbeing and love
It is not that the beautiful rose
Needs the song of love.
Rather the bard needs to continue to sing,
For it is that keeps him alive.

My prayers are too a trifle for thine, O God.
But it is for myself I praise thee in my song.
It is the tune of your spirit
That breathes life in me and my song.

Ya, you are right,

Immaturity and insanity
By and large constitute the human condition.
I know u accept my madness and my follies...

Walking lonely in the desert,

Simoni sings his wishes to his God..
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Affixed in her Penance

Silent and constant,
Affixed in her Penance,
Nature exists in all her grandeur!

Simoni does not know
For whom is the penance,
He does not know for whom is the longing!
But does he see,
That resoluteness in the silence profound,
Transfixed is Nature,
Affixed in her Penance.

She is quiet but is alive!
Through her closed eyes,
She sees the past, future along with the present.
With power of creation
Throbbing in her viens,
She stands there all powerful,
Feigning the silence of the surrendered!

At times being lost in pride,
Of his own creation,
Simoni derides Her,
Showing his indifference to her.
But the ego-driven haywire ride,
Stumbles Simoni down,
Soon to bring to his realization,
It is the will of Nature and not his own will,
That pervades!
She is quiet but is alive!

In the suchness of the creation,
Simoni now just surrenders and sits in observance,
He is just a clearing of Her will,
Through his work,
Trying hard to listen what She whispers,
Through the sound of his chisel on the marble of Life.

But Simoni does not know,

For whom is her penance, her longing, and her pride!

In the space of wonder and innocence,

Continues Simoni on his marble,

With his chisel and hammer.
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar