Life is a changing canvas The strokes once bold Now, blurred; The dashes dainty Now, outstood. The picture painted before Was of a demure lass That feared many a storm And fancied many a charm. Now, dignity deigned To laugh at cares And in occasional respite, laze. With the picture altered What remains is merely its semblance in shade. Then for what purpose were we made If we are thus altered? Gently as the running brook that shapes the roughed rock, Life makes the frivolus painting A fervent masterpiece ..read more

When water is contained in a pitcher it assumes its shape. When in the tank, another shape. In a bottle, yet another shape. Also when it falls from a cliff, it has a certain speed, it spurts from a pipe with another force, when it tumbles down a can, another speed. Can water in one container feel superior or inferior to water in another container on account of its shape or speed ..read more

A time to sit by myself listening to the pattering of rain, Staring at my brush strokes upon canvas and wondering how to enhance its effects; Musing over my past and deriving morals for each experience, Reading interesting bits off old DH papers, Reflecting on life at large, the mechanics of the universe and the meaning of existence. Resting my tired feet and reclining on a comfortable chair, Scribbling nonsense on blank sheets of paper stacked on a tidy table ..read more

Oh rain, you are a heavenly reminder of the free fall of life…. You fall effortlessly upon parched earth or tarred streets, Never sparing a thought about where you fall; Upon gutter or grime..stone or moss..hard ground or soft earth… Embracing every possibility with equanimity ..read more

When the world looks so beautiful, it is hard to hide behind a book in some obscure chamber that shuts out the dance of the sunlight, the play of the wind and the cacophony of the vibrant crowd. The cock cries out to the skies, and ducks and geese warble as they wet their beaks and hinds in a muddy pond. The trees solemnly look on; their steady gaze fixed upon unsteady objects. The sun has dimmed and clouds huddle close to plot their next move. They might run in revelry to fall as a merry drizzle upon the magic below or lock horns in rage to rush down as rain upon the mayhem below ..read more

I had forgotten the divine music That once ran through me And pulsated in ecstatic strains In every one of my veins. I had forgotten the joy that once Surged through my heart And urged me forward. But how marvellously you roused me from my stupor By gently tapping me till I wakened And remembered… The glory of the light I am still… The music that my spirit spells… The joy that in my heart swells… The shrine that my being dwells in ..read more

Strange are your ways Oh mighty orchestrator! We dance to the tunes of your flute In perfect oblivion! In rapture we forget our petty concerns And drown in ecstatic music… The music of our unique souls That blend in harmony And bend in submission To the ultimate symphony ..read more

..read more

Is there music merrier than the splash of rain upon hard ground? Is there a scent lovelier than of fresh earth moistened by rain? The cool air brought with it glad tidings of rain And promises from afar… Grim hearts were stirred And eyes glistened with hope As clouds stretched their many arms To help humans cope in their mighty war Against invisible folk ..read more

Dive into the recesses of silence Or noises, To escape the burden of quietness. When you cannot speak, Or are not spoken to, Seek the cavity of your own mind To hear the echoes of your thoughts, Or the vacuum of your thoughtlessness ..read more