In Search of Peace
Listening to the echoes
Distance and Glory
The One Thing
The Magic Drop
your face shines with mischievous smile,
and an innocent child looks from your eyes,
had you been to the place we discussed?
I can't wait anymore, sit beside me, and
tell me your story of journey in separation.
Grey hair and a few wrinkles I had anticipated,
and your old impatience still fascinates me;
that's my chair, and I begin from the beginning.
At the crossroad you did not call me back,
that left no option for me but to proceed alone,
I looked back in expectation till I reached the turn.
These turns are strange; they change the terrain:
the meadows and the birds, and tempting silence!
The brook said: O lady alone, may I accompany you?
We talked about fish and flow, love and life.
'I must depart at next turn dear, but a bird
would accompany you in your travels further.'
The bird came low, its wings making effort
to steady itself at my level, and mused:
I am a loner; the sky speaks to me of vastness,
the rainbow shows me the way in rainy days,
a migrating friend sends me an occasional greeting,
and below, the river flows as a dancing company.
The next turn led me to the dessert at last,
you had reluctantly agreed to let me explore.
There I experienced oceanic splendour; majestic
camels and pigmy humans merged in sandy attire,
the bells in their neck jingled in a sound of music,
as lines leading to last frontier slowly vanished.
Wind played with my clothes, but I felt no shame,
senescence left me as I drank nectar at the oasis,
a white-robed monk whispered truth in my ear -
a mystic word of heavenly power. The sun was cool
and sand cooler. Lost in myself I remembered you,
and here we are together; no more crossroads!
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Do not blame the stone
at the threshold
if you have stumbled there;
the line demarking the two vistas
always throws up obstacles.
Do not blow up the bridges,
for there is always a possibility
others might be following your precepts;
or, you may not be all that correct.
It is not always wise to disagree,
for their arguments may contain
the truth that you might have missed;
or, you may be talking of the same subject.
Try not always to run away,
for the fear might be misplaced,
it may be the rope rather than a snake;
or, 'facing the snake' might actually help.
A glass is a glass, may be
a plane to look beyond,
but a powder-coat converts it
into a reflective surface.
It reflects condition of mind,
proportionate to the intensity
and the distance one keeps
during a caress, a hug, or a kiss.
The mirror judges the value
we attach to gems and jewels;
and, with panache, measures
the depth in an eye that weeps.
It's same either way
You came into my life
like a magician,
but the problem remained,
albeit in a changed form.
We wept in silence
and in silence we laughed;
you said the rabbit is an illusion and I said so is the hat.
all poems by c s shah