In Search of Peace
Listening to the echoes
Distance and Glory
The One Thing
The Magic Drop
The Tired Wheel
Wheel, the symbol of onward progress,
of ingenuity and human excellence,
that wheel is tired of perpetual motion;
prays: O Almighty, stop this constant march,
this rhythmic terror of galloping horses,
these agonizing cries from the battlefields
of mutilated bodies and wounded spirits.
Your light dazzles my eyes,
I fail to discern the ray of hope.
Put a cover on your golden face,
for a while let darkness prevail.
Meanwhile I'll loosen a brick
to allow a ray to enter the cave.
It'd be easy to meditate then
on Light that links two words,
two thoughts, or two events.
The blossoms were fresh and colorful -
a clan in a meadow,
like buttons attached to ribbons
with tender frills below.
Engaged in a courting ballet
they played to the tune of wind -
one, two, three, four - repeat,
kiss and hug, and a gentle retreat.
I withdrew my hand - plucking
delayed; nay, abandoned.
And as I turned, there she stood
inviting, with open arms - and
we danced together the dance of life
in ecstatic charm.
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The sky extends its stretch
and clouds can't cover it entirely.
As they run to cover the east
blue is exposed in the west,
and a run to the south leaves
a bare patch in the northern belt.
In desperation, clouds complain:
"Look papa, the sky doesn't allow us to win."
And laughing with fullness of heart
the ocean embraces the entire sky.
Why do you plant artificial flowers?
Plastics never bloom -
I know and you know too.
They are uniformly symmetrical - robotic,
have no fragrance, but they please the eye;
to me flowers symbolize joy.
They may not sprout,
but keep the hope alive
in these days of drought -
predicted to be severe and prolonged.
Now that I am aloof in the midst of the crowd noises don't disturb me, nor do angular glances of distaste and frown.
I'm alone but not lonely, my inner world is alive - I do not desire quid pro quo for what I've done for others or others have done to me.
Values attached to emotions, feelings, and relations - and even to devotion - lose their clout in their sublimation in Divine.
all poems by c s shah