Destiny has arrived,
My time has come.

Despite there being,
much more to be done.

Ideas such as this,
come and go as they please.
Just as this life,
prepares itself to cease.

It came all too fast,
there was no time to prepare.
Swept off my feet as the very winds declare

"You who have lived,
a life short as can be,
Now it is time,
to decide who you want to be.
For good or for ill,
for the better or worst.
What you do is in your hands,
whereas your life shall disperse."

Remembered for what,
having done what, for whom.
What is it I feel,
am I willing to ****?

My very own life,
precious as can be,
for this sole reason,
what will I die for with glee?

The answer is simple,
How could I forget?
To pass on my seeds,
to whomever shall have them.

Giving the world my most heartfelt contribution,
sharing with the world, a most wonderful creation.
The most subtle, archaic, truth lying within,
in these dying words, may all truly live.
The wish that I have, unfulfilled,
may all work towards, a future completely fulfilled.

I watch the vast expanse of space beneath me,
the beautiful earth, covered in green.

I stare upon the very skies,
filled with stars farther than what the eyes can define.

Secrets hidden,
truths amidst,
the vast forest,
apparent like mist.

I stare upon the endless ocean,
vaster than even the eyes can glimpse.
I stare upon the beauties of nature,
filled with creatures both young and free.

Yet all these things are but what I can see,
a fraction of nature's divine great beauty.
Beyond all words, and what I can think,
to describe its unmatched grandiosity.

Still, I try, even when I fail,
because nature is, something I behold,
to be powerful and free, beyond compare.
It makes me see how tiny I am.

A bare speck, or a semblance of dust,
completing thousands of minor tasks.
To keep myself going, as all creatures do,
in the vast history of what's about to ensue.

Nature's beauty, lying in thus,
is just like its cruelty, apparent in us.
Blending and molding, all actions in one,
into a future which all will become.

Corpses of maggots, dead bodies amidst,
a vast mountain of others, a skeletal heap.
All paving the path into the future of Earth,
who knows what Nature is about to unearth?

Beautiful and sad,
Cruel and kind.
What comes to be must eventually unwind.

Thus Nature stays true,
to its essenceless truth.
That all it is, is a perpetuating loop.

The world breaks down,
into a cacophony of voices.

A symphony of strength,
a melody of choices.

The sum of our decisions and thoughts within,
give rise to a personality and character wherein:
Choices are made, and the path is sealed,
leaving no room except for one to yield.

To one's past decisions,
the actions which have wrought.
A series of consequences,
and what of it, a thought.

Of a better result than what has been seen,
Of a whole slew of decisions, however bad it may seem.
What we once chose,
become shackles that bind,
our very future,
into a dime.

We chase after shadows, figments of truth,
Of happiness and fulfilment, for good or for ill.
We choose a path, based on choices which shape,
whatever we become, for our happiness' sake.

Yet the pursuit of wealth, of money or success,
defined by others, and not by one's zest.
Will only lead to failure, a complete mess.

Of one's very own mind,
a confused wreck.
Not knowing the difference between what's good or bad.
The unending pursuit of one's own dream,
leads to an ending, that few have rarely seen.

For most seek power, and others seek wealth,
Few seek happiness, above all else.
The result of all these, what very few can see,
is the transformation of mind, from pure to unclean.

What is happiness, in truth,
but chemicals and flukes?
Based on this, people chase what's abstruse.

To succeed in society where happiness exists,
only at the top, while the rest subsist.
On scraps and inklings of what they deem to be,
a happiness that is perfect, worry-free and complete.

Thus they are trapped,
they don't begin to see,
the trappings of society,
so thorough and complete.

They don't see the happiness that lies in relief,
Or the pointlessness of striving toward what has yet to be.

Yet this very cessation,
of striving towards things,
is the very happiness that all wish to see.
Absolute freedom, an endless expanse.
Available right here, where we may truly rest.

Shaped by society to be narrow-minded and cold,
Let us break free, to be joyous and bold.
To enjoy the ecstasy that does not depend,
on cause and condition, or any expense.
Let us strive forth, to cease all attempts,
at seeking a happiness that requires us to attend.

May all of us enjoy, an eternity of rest.

The stilling of the mind,
so temporary and fine.

Grinding and breaking,
grounding and filling.
All things are turning,
and in for the making.

With contact, conception.
From perception, creation.
All ideas we have,
arise from destruction.

The bits and pieces of things once born,
the emptiness left when what's complete is gone.

Creation, Destruction,
Conception, Termination.
The cycle of things continue in procession.

For what's destroyed has pieces,
once put together,
containing within it a perfection beyond measure.

Thus things are recycled. ideas broken to create,
new things put together, what was once mashed by fate.

Piece by piece,
and part by part,
whats broken is complete,
like all things at the start.

So what does it matter,
when things fall apart?
We rebuild the beginning,
Right from the start.

To create a new future,
a story that is bright.
A series of advancements,
we all know is right.

Though we know we all die,
that things don't last forever.
Yet we do so happily,
knowing it will only get better.

The spreading of wings,
to cover the night of day.

The overbearing clouds,
keeping the sunrise at bay.

All things great, and all things good,
are things by all means, probably should.
Lead to happiness, prosperity, and joy within me,
or a simple contentment, a peace that will be.

Yet no matter what strives,
no matter what comes to be.
The characteristic of things,
is that they all cease to be.

Happiness. Sadness.
All good and bad.
Like the time of midnight,
vanishing in seconds.

Burning the fuels, and pushing the lies,
we strive ceaselessly, towards countless lies.
Of messages of a future we think we understand,
A glimmer of hope which we barely comprehend.

Needlessly striving, continually pursuing,
we arrive at the destination,
burning, smoldering.
Our wayward soul,
all the burns that follow,
and we look upon, to truly behold.

What we see are the joys,
temporary pleasantries,
a series of countless,
wastes and toiletries.

When we realize the path that we sowed has been done,
and all that we wish for, coming undone.
We begin to regret,
not knowing back then,
that a path which burns,
will lead to ashes in the end.

Yet it is not too late,
for there's always a chance,
that the truth will shine,
bright as the sun.

It is the moonlit night,
the salient breeze.
Which cools our hearts,
and soothes the feels.

When we release the burdens which have cindered us for so long,
what is left, is to go where we belong.

Peaceful and free, cool and placid,
it is then we can say, "Cooling down is worth it."

The empty expanse,
now clear before me.

A vast landscape,
A wide variety.

Thousands of things,
which act without royalty.

All beings act thus,
out of free will,
making many choices, for good or for ill.
They take many actions,
depending on their mood or the weather.
Choosing casually thus,
they affect the latter.

For one's life is not a void,
decisions are not empty.
One man's choice,
will affect all of the laity.

Interconnectedness to all that will be,
decisions will reach far, like a king's decree.
Knowing thus, and seeing thee,
one begins to act with certainty.

Being grounded in knowledge,
Clear seeing of truth.
The awareness and wisdom,
that's not simply, aloof.

One begins to act,
with pure joy and tact,
in accordance to all that is good and fact.

These men are praised,
as men of value.
As people who act,
with poise and valour.

They will be remembered,
as men of their day.
When all they did,
was simply obey.

Nature's laws and creatures,
the meaninglessness of critters,
coming together,
to form a system of leeches.

Knowing thus and yet going beyond.
These men who obey,
are not simply pawns.

They transcend into legend,
stories told of their fame,
yet all they did,
was to be grounded in their name.

The breaking of things,
disappearing meanings,
for growth, and progress,
we strive nonetheless.

What was once old,
remade to the new.
What was once treasured,
now merely a tool.

A hintings of a time that once came to be,
A sign of a future that was once yet to be.

Time passes fast.
Things are not the same.

What was state of the art,
now merely maintained.

All things are like this,
thought to give us amidst,
a splattering of pain,
a dash of suffering,
a combination of stress and disharmony.

A certain happiness,
a joy that won't be missed.
A goal that is worthy,
of all the pains that we once dissed.

We slowly grow,
chasing after things.
Yet then we realize,
said things are now slow.

Everything that's made, will be like so.
Nothing is free, nor can be maintained when old,
for our happiness and joy, that which we sow.

All things break down, even I myself too.
What was once good, may become taboo.

To maintain we strive. to be happy we work.
Not knowing when this will be our last word.
Where we see that all things that have come to be,
just like our happiness, will cease to be.

So abandon this maintenance,
of this facade and countenance,
and live a life of honesty,
of complete abundance.

The shattered world vanishes beneath thee,
the emptiness, now pervading within me.
I see what was once there before,
now ceasing to be there at all.

What I once called,
my life and my family,
the cornerstones of my very identity,
turning into dust, a part of my memory.

Even this, ceases to be,
what was "forever", now just a "could be"
time erodes all that I deem,
important to no one, except me.

Yet this breaking,
deconstruction of worlds,
changes my perception,
for good or for ill,
into something beyond,
becoming adjourned,
into a part of something, new it may be.

My ideas begin to break,
my thoughts begin to shatter.
What was important, now doesn't even matter.
I recall a time, things were important to me,
now no different than the dust beneath me.

I then pay attention, to what is void and apparent.
The unchanging past, and the future in development.
I see what was broken, will be made anew,
and that there is nothing that won't be so.

Breaking my mind, breaking my soul,
breaking the heart that tears me so.
Overwhelming the part constituting this "me",
what then dies, is now reborn to see.

Of a time once past,
of a future yet to be.
Of a wholly new perspective,
rich as can be.

Our lives are such,
a deconstruction of the past,
to make a better future,
for every one of us.

The echoes of the mind,
reverberate like bells,
across the empty, endless halls.

The corridors of memory,
containing pain and ecstasy,
pervade the emptiness,
within the noiseless forest.

An unending passage,
an unceasing path.
The uneasy silence that accompanies us.

Thus we thrive in noise,
dance and song,
never once remembering,
where it went wrong.

Occupying our minds,
with past and future things,
wasting the present and all that is,
what's left is nothing, simply this.

We cry in pain,
we cry in sorrow.
We feel the anguish that comes with tomorrow.

We feel the sadness and pent up regret,
and all the things that we left repressed.

Alone with nothing but thoughts in mind,
we forget the peace that's within our mind.
Between what's familiar and what is unknown,
we neglect the latter for a pain well known.

So what is the meaning, what is the point,
of choosing a noise, for which none would rejoice?
I empty my mind, I abandon my wish,
I simply relax, in what simply is.

For within noise is silence, within darkness a day,
hidden behind a curtain which may,
conceal a truth, or reveal a light.
It is your choice, will you stand and fight?

Thoughts of the future,
Visions of the past.
The present moment,
simply does not last.

Time is spent,
unceasingly,
on speculation and niceties.

The self-deception plaguing oneself,
The unceasing banter regarding wealth.
What is left, to truly spend,
is an echo, a fraction, of what we truly have.

Paying attention to useless things,
occupying the mind with countless daydreams.

Imaginings of futures never coming-to-be,
Recollections of a past causing hurt to me,
What is left is but a bare fraction,
the actual time that is spent on the present.

Wasting away the gifts of time,
we squander the present, however benign,
on the past and future, or thoughts of the present.

Rather than seeing what is truly inherent,
the very impermanence that defines the present,
We miss our chance,
the biggest chance there is,
to shape our future, however bleak it is.

As with countless drops one can fill a ***,
day by day we can always walk.
For the path of a thousand miles begins with a step,
with the beginning at hand, the end we will beget,
the very future, we will seek to protect.

What is the body,
but a pile of meat?
Moving around,
seeking only to eat?

What makes us human,
what makes us strong?
What is it that pulls us along?

Do we have a soul?
Or just a mind?
Do we have an identity,
beyond what we can define?

What exactly lasts,
what thing underlies,
our very existence,
whose meaning is undefined?

Some call it "soul",
others simply "mind,
yet there are others,
who call it not "mine".

The first sees an eventual, heavenly life,
borne from the sacrifice of a holy Christ,
or the forgiveness and judgement of a heavenly being,
or the results of past actions, coming into being.

The second sees the mind,
a product of the brain.
No different from nature,
which never ceases or begins.
Having existed since beginningless time,
what comes to be, eventually declines,
and one is returned, to the darkness underlined.

The 3rd is one, who does not distinguish,
he sees the body and mind,
not as one who would wish,
for a lasting identity, or an eternal peace,
nor does he see it, as one who just is.

Instead he sees things, unlikely as it may,
the aggregates of consciousness and body, clear as day.
He does not deceive himself, thinking of meaning,
nor does he lie, thinking himself as "body".

He separates the speculation of a soulless man,
as he does the thought of a mind separate from man.
He overcomes the dualities which we normally comprehend,
With a sight that sees, what is simply at hand.

The truth that this body, its aggregates and mind,
are all but products of our imaginary mind,
which projects and creates,
in an endless thought-pattern,
a speculation that is ceaseless,
an identity to be had.

Instead he deconstructs,
he sees the body as it is,
an aggregate of thoughts, perceptions and things.
He overcomes the idea of "suffering" that exists,
and does not cling to the idea of "pleasure" for bliss.
He rests in the nature that is rightfully so,
not overthinking, whether he has a soul.
Because such things, are deceptions coming to be,
by the ever-thinking mind, always deceiving thee.

Looking up the sky,
I see many highs.
An endless boundary,
a boundless night.

The very weather is clear tonight,
so I bask, under the clear moonlight.
Looking and seeing, the void as it is,
the clarity of the sky, dark like the abyss.

An emptiness and nothingness,
a seeming boundlessness,
creates a scenery,
which inspires fondness.

The steady clarity of the clear moon light,
and the shiny stars which litter across the night.
The beauty of nature,
is what makes this very sky, night.

The freedom to choose,
for good or for ill,
the happiness of the world,
or the destruction of its ilk.

The very choices we make,
shape the essence of our mind.
Who we eventually become,
is what we come to define:
As our identity and purpose,
our goals and will,
the energy to strive for,
What we deem to be real.

We all seek happiness,
and avoid the rest.
Undermining the cause,
of our happiness at best.

At worst it collapses,
our goals and its means.
It denies us the happiness,
which we all seek.

So what we choose to express,
should be all that we can.
Yet we must always be mindful,
of exactly when.

For there are those who judge,
and others who whisper,
People who stab you,
without hearing you whimper.

However hard this path may be,
undeniably, it brings true peace.
Expressing yourself as full as can be,
eventually you find, a purpose to live.

Be it a true friend,
or a partner for life.
Being simply true,
will lead others to find,
that happiness and sadness are but one thing.
And that true peace always lies, underneath this.

The land beneath me burns away,
what I have always held at bay.

Emotions suppressed, feelings contained,
To whom can I share them without restraint?

Friends and family, Strangers and foes,
Whom will actually understand my woes?

Multitudinal emotions, feelings unrepressed.
Finally I release them, unsuppressed.

Many are in shock, while others in dismay.
They begin wondering, "You were not this way"

You used to be better,
You used to be happier,
You used to be calm,
without this...  anger.

Without the sadness expressed from the heart,
Without the anger experienced throughout,
what is left is but a shadow,
a false image, left in the meadow.

Though the path to growth lies in true peace,
amidst its progress lies emotional release.
Without expressing the emotions lying in one,
how can we understand the path that lies beyond?

The path to maturity, growth, understanding,
lies in a place beyond our fathoming.
Amidst this progress a painful tribulation,
Yet waiting for us, is an eventual destination.

The energy within,
from which everything flows.
Care and concern,
for mother nature and its woes.

It is the will to care for the rest,
no matter how badly you may want to rest.
It is the energy to protect the weak,
regardless of the state of your own being.

It is not easy to continue onward.
Pain that you feel, as you travel forward.
Many things in life are not as they seem.
You should be happy, but often that's not a thing.

No matter how much one may seek to be better,
If their perspective is flawed, they won't get any better.
The power of emotions, the self and more,
overwhelm our wishes, our strength in the lore.

For no matter how strong the heroes of yore,
they eventually succumb, though through limitations they endure.

The wish to protect, all things that are dear,
the will to surpass, all predecessors in here
The energy to stand strong in the face of the world,
The power of compassion, defying death and more.

Born I live,
happy and free.

Roaming the houses like a chimpanzee,
but I'm a Gecko, how can that be?
I chase after the insects and all pests that be,
for the sake of my stomach, and friends-that-be.

Eventually I grow,
a long tail and a ***,
larger than the biggest cockroaches that roam.
I live completely peacefully,
no **** to be seen,
nor scaring the daylights,
out of the family with me.

My life is short,
but I am happy.
Insects and friends,
who always join me.

The same family every day which I see,
giving me a job,
and leaving a warm house for me.

I live in peace,
up to my end.
Living and leaving,
a legacy to defend.

Passing the torch on to my descendents-to-be,
I close my eyes,
never to open them again.

May all that know me,
by sight or by scent,
live happily like me,
to their own life's end.

The sight of the future,
from seers of past.
Imagining something in the present at last.

Constructing a future that is unseen,
from present variables, both without and within.

A place of chaos, this world is,
good things and bad, intermix like lists.
Combining and melding, all futures into one,
the results that come about are hard to fathom.

To imagine a future with one's own life at stake,
Countless men travel towards one path they wish to take.
All of them head towards one thing which they see,
that will bring them the happiness, which all of them seek.

Yet a happiness that is limited,
a joy that is shared,
is something that will be fought for,
for good or for bad.

The solution is thus not,
to challenge and despair,
to fight endlessly on a path,
that requires constant repair.

Take the road less travelled,
the path right at hand.
Which others call bleak,
but you see the truth, Amen.

A happiness and peace,
granting complete ease.
A path I envision,
where we'll all enjoy a feast.

The future is unclear,
yet the present is now.
How about we make use of it,
to make a future where we're proud?

Sometimes things don't go as foretold,
Sometimes we are forced to let go.

People, independent,
with the choices they make.
Are none of our business,
involving us as it may.

The wrenching feeling of separation,
causing us to act in desperation.
Taking away a part of us,
it is lost forever, in another person's arms.

Our happiness and joy,
in the hands of a friend.
Who at any moment,
can cease to befriend.

Deciding to ignore you simply out of hand,
not reconciling, but shunning instead.

The loved one's departure, a friend's choice to leave,
none of this is within our choice to believe.

For all things are impermanent,
all good things will cease.
The smallest things may cascade,
into an irreparable deed.

When a friend chooses to leave,
try hard as you may.
If you really love them,
you will truly let them be.

Thoughts and emotions,
growing like a plant.
Taking root,
inside my very heart.

It is this habit, this very thing,
which makes me attached to things outside me.
Friends and enemies, words and things.
The stresses which everyday life will bring.

It grows and grows,
as we feed it daily.
From a small sum,
to a massive tally.

This giant tree, grown from a sapling.
Is the sum of all feelings I invested within it.
Massive like the rising sun,
to uproot it, is harder than severing the horizon.

Thus control over this thing,
hard as it is.
As it forces you to feed it,
again with impunity.

Yet one day this tree,
becomes another ****.
******* the life forces from within thee.

At this point it's pointless,
the resources needed, endless.
There comes a time,
where we learn a lesson.

That some things when sown must eventually be reaped,
Not all things should be kept, lest we finally keel.

Pointless and meaningless,
an endless task to be done.
Eventually all things, must come undone.

From the shining heavens,
to the depths of hell,
are countless places,
in which mortals dwell.

People like me,
who are simple and free,
search for happiness, wherever it may be.

Yet the obstacles are endless,
countless and limitless.

Every goal we set creates another one, harder.
Progressing toward, the highest of the heavens,
eventually even we, begin to falter.

We see that the joys that money may bring,
a life of pleasure, girls and spring,
are ephemeral, illusory, temporary like the wind.
A short term high, like drugs taken at a whim.
These joys and pleasures, and the highs it may bring,
Are no different from the crude, happiness of dreams.
Experiencing them when either rich or poor,
the difference is legality, for good or for ill.

Yet the heavens are temporary, the joys are too.
Whatever once brought us there,
can bring us down too.
Navigating the clouds, transparent as can be.
Fragile like the pleasures that one enjoys within thee.
Striving so hard to maintain this modicum of joy,
we lose sight of it all, overwhelmed by turmoil.

Eventually our attention laxes, our focus disbands,
we descend to the hells, all joys out of hand.
All the happiness we seek, seemingly gone from thee,
we forget that their joys are as temporary as can be.
Mistakenly seeing it as the source which we seek,
we chase them relentlessly, bringing others with thee.

Confusing ourselves, and others who follow me,
we end up on a path, both hellish and heavenly.
These conflicting experiences, strengthening within me,
I become conflicted, as do others who join me.

Soon we all forget, what is happiness and joy.
Seeking a fleeting, temporary ploy.
Deceiving us of happiness, the peace within thee,
Eventually we die, no happiness within me.

If only I saw what was in front of me.
If only I overcame the senses which deceived me.
If only I realized the truth of one,
that both heaven and hell, are meant to be undone.

We separate the two, splitting humans in two,
where some enjoy good, and the rest make do.
Mistaking happiness, to be the fleeting joy of bliss,
we no longer see, that true joy is in this.

Enduring pain, experiencing ease.
Overwhelming the tribulation with true inner peace.
From this all shackles become undone,
for there is nothing, left to be done.

The beauty of sight,
which takes in the world.
Seeing, believing,
we create our own world.

The thing we depend on,
what we rely on.
It is the source, from which all things are born.

Size, shape, colour and texture,
All things are created with a single gesture.

With these eyes I see day,
Closing them I see night,
the creation of this world,
dependent entirely on my sight.

Though this power is strong, incredible and mighty,
shaping our world as if without our psyche.
We come to rely on them, believing they are truth,
instead of seeing, that they are all a ruse.

The Sight in dreams, seeing reality,
We miscontrue, what is false and reality.
Our perceptions like colours diluting our sight,
who can say, what we see is right?

Where those depressed see darkness,
those happy see light.
Those experiencing clarity,
sees things that are right.

Understanding the reality as it is,
seeing the rising, and falling of this.
Perceiving the very essence of sight,
all may understand what is truly, right.

So will you take the first step,
will you begin to see,
the reality in front of you,
not what you imagine it to be?

An act of will,
An action, forthcoming.
What is it,
that powers our becoming?

We take action,
and spontaneously reckon,
our lives and history,
and experiences, begotten.

Yet no matter how much our freedom may be,
we end up controlled by experiences within thee.
Repeating actions we have always done,
strengthening the cage instead of it coming undone.

So familiar it is,
so convenient it can be.
To blame everyone and everything,
except the selves within thee.

Pushing everything to others and family,
we never once consider ourselves, faulty.
Working on pushing and blaming that one,
we ourselves, are made, undone.

So what is important, what do we need to ****?
It is that, which constricts our will.
Breaking free from shackles within thee,
we shatter all obstacles, without and within thee.

Energy flowing,
like the unceasing river.

Strength building,
like a geyser gushing.

The power of peace, supreme of all.
Happiness, joy, which no others can withdraw.

Tis' the unparalleled happiness of peace.
Blameless, free, and completely at ease.

The Power of Pain, an understanding of stress,
all this lead to, the elimination of duress.

The intuitive knowledge of pain as it is,
The piercing truth that is contained within.
That few see, and many ignore,
yet those who confront it,
are like gifts to be adored

Give power to the weak,
Bring joy to the sad,
Give courage to those, in need of strength

Those who know pain give love,
Those who know weakness give strength

This is the power within all of us men.

The powers that be,
build up incessantly.
The world is bleak,
Do we have to be?

The gravity of nature,
The swirling thunderstorm,
A hurricane that sweeps,
across even Mount Rushmoore.

The growing strength of nature's wrath,
The unrelenting of force of our own mind's stab.
Suffering which mixes, condenses and grows,
Is there an end to this unrelenting flow?

The answer is Strength, overwhelming Power.
The Will to overcome all that is Nether.
It is Mind that exists, with its growing splendour,
an energy that subsists, on its own grandeur.

In the face of depression, painful it may be,
the mind self-perpetuates, what it thinks is good for thee.
Soon people confuse the darkness in mind,
To be the very, nature of mind.

How wrong could they be?
How could they not see?
That it is not mind, but their own strength that is,
the thing that has created,
all the stress there is.

To break this reality, the conditioning which is,
To overcome the nature of all that do this.
To shatter conceptions, notions overcome,
Trust is the first step, which will overrun,
all of the things built up to this day,
Like a strong men's will, easily swept away.

So what will you do? Will you believe?
Will you take the first step, so that you can truly see?
Will you walk the long path, with the powers that be?
To face nature's wrath, and society's bad deeds?
Will you all trust yourself, all your strength held in,
And hold fast against the storm, raging within?

From the dawn of time,
To the break of day,
Beings which live,
progress day by day.

Be they small,
or be they tall,
all humans are characterized,
By the way they fall.

The steeper the *****, the bigger the fall,
yet that elusive goal, becomes better for all.

Some fall fast, while others stand tall,
Some stand with others when they know they'll fall.

Filled with ambition, or the need to survive,
All strive their best, regardless of the grind.

Lofty goals abound, reasonable ones flourish.
The ones who chase after them,
like moths going to perish.

Seeking simple paths, some never fall,
yet the joy that they feel, is not something for all.
Living life with regrets, with things left undone,
they abandon their beliefs for that which has none.

Others aim high, reaching for the sky,
Even without ability, they believe themselves to fly.
Not percipient of danger, nor grounded by truth,
Even if they succeed, it is entirely a fluke.
In time they fall, as things cease to be,
thus dwelling on the pain and anguish of this,
They ultimately perish, emptiness within thee.

Yet others remain reasonable, firm and strong,
Striving for goals, ideals yet in reach.
With a plan of action, they move step by step,
Falling continuously, yet continuing without rest.

These men of knowledge, wisdom and strength,
know what is of value, goals and when.
They do what is needed, no more no less,
Understanding their limits, they progress where they can.
Picking the time, date and place,
They progress ceaselessly at their own pace.
Walking a path, no other dare face.
Eventually they succeed, doing what no other has done in their place.

Fulfilling their wishes, these three types of men,
lay down paths which all can comprehend.
The path well travelled, is one documented,
yet it remains one, for those simply content.
Their paths are normal, insignificant to most,
yet within contains tranquility beyond those foremost.
For what is deep is simple, what is profound, penetrating.
Those which are simple, may have seen all paths converging.
Seeing the truth lying within one single space,
he walks the shortest path, where the truth stays in place.

The path next travelled, is one filled with fools,
those with ambition, and the guts to pursue.
Lessons abounding, it is a path less travelled.
For the bravery you need, cannot be unravelled.
A path with a victory nowhere in sight,
one can only hope what he does is right.
Yet at the end of the day, be it success or may-day,
There will be those happy in this day.
This self-made goal, with no end in sight,
That is what makes these people fight.

The final path, is the path of the sage.
Penetrating the light, they are endowed with what’s wise.
Without an end in sight,
Nor a beginning to be seen,
They enlist the help of others, to make what should have been.
Combining the efforts, of all those who are wise.
They lead everyone, to the very next sunrise.
Paving a path, slowly but surely,
All hardly fall, yet are brought with surety,
A final destination that everyone seeks,
Creating a future that none will call bleak.

What is left behind, are many paths men will find,
Stories and legends, tales of success.
Goaded by what they are driven in life,
All will ultimately choose, what legacy they leave behind.

The beauty of the day,
long and hot it may be,
Eventually its beauty,
will cease to be.

The sun which shines,
illuminates the world, across all empty skies.
Through wind and rain,
clouds and night,
the impact of its light,
is simply all that is bright.

Yet all that is goodness,
Warmth and Joy
That which is value,
do not last to help you.

As the day passes,
this very sun shifts.
Across the land,
this very sun drifts.

The splendour of good men,
prevalent they may be,
are like the sun which brings everyone,
Ecstasy.

A lamp in the darkness,
A guide to the lost,
The sign which tells others,
"Not everything is lost"

With the passage of time,
people are forgotten.
Vague memories of past,
like ideals, begotten.

What was once good,
Replaced by the bad.
What was once bright,
Replaced by the dark.

The shadows of the sun illuminate the land,
Gradually darkness, completely descends.

I lament the darkness, the loss of good,
the prevalence of decadence and immoral prudes.

Yet in the corner of my eye, a brightness still shines,
far brighter than even the sun at noontime.

Reflected across, the resplendent water-like mirror,
Is that which is good, shining ever brighter.

The Virtues that be, Honesty and Peace.
The Wish that all beings, will be at ease.
The Strength to carry on with unwavering will,
in the ensuing darkness, about to prevail.

It is at times of darkness, where warriors stand and fight,
Where enemies hide in the darkness of night.
Facing an impossible, unending task,
They pick up the pace,
Without any question to ask.

Eventually they pass on,
their lives forgotten,
Yet their impact remains,
As "The Brightest Men of Day"

The Light of Fire,
Burning Bright,
Shines across the moonlit plain.

There it lies, untouched, unmarred.
Steady like the shining sun.

Yet no matter how strong, steady and bright,
Eventually it snuffs out under the moonlit night.

And there lies darkness, empty and cold,
it fills up the place, until ages of old.

What comes will go,
What is bright shall cease.
Nothing is there,
that will not be like this.

Yet even this darkness,
all-pervasive it may be.
Eventually it, too.
Ceases to be.

With the break of night,
Impermanence dawns.
Even that which is not,
becomes nothing as well.

In darkness and cold,
all beings tremble.
Some become lights for others to handle.
They guide other beings, no matter who they may be,
and bring them to places they would never see.

Giving others glimpses of what it means to be bright,
even when gone, others begin to seek the light.

Eventually time passes, these flames disappear,
remnants of a time where people adhere.
To values and truth, of goodness and will,
A power and strength which none can prevail.

Thus in the darkness of night, people reside.
They push on and eventually,
see the dawn of light.

What covers the sky, however broad it may be.
And what shields us from the sun, however powerful it may seem?
What blocks the moonlit sky, Beautiful and bright,
And what blots out the stars, descending in the night?

Illusory yet real, intangible yet present.
It covers the sky like a watery blanket.

Blocking the warmth and the brightness of day.
Shielding us from joys as it may.

For no real purpose, meaning or reason,
it covers our sight from what it deems treason.

Moonlit beauty, a boundless sky,
the everlasting light after an unending night.

Shielding the world from the splendour of the weather,
it prevents us from seeing,
What truly matters

The rain then comes, and the clouds disappear,
What seemed so everlasting, disappearing like the wind.

Like these clouds are thoughts,
Blocking our perception.
Clouding our view,
as though life is in their possession.

They mould our thoughts and shift our sights,
They stop us from seeing what is within our right.

Deceiving us, we trust their belief,
choosing the clouds over what truly exists.
Eventually we forget, a life before this,
A life of beauty, brightness and gifts.

Mixed with the moods of melancholy and reflection,
the unclouded mind, is just this clear perception.

Rather than saying, that our thoughts are us.
What if we look beyond, and see that there is nothing within us?

Within nothingness a something,
Within change a permanence.

Our identity is something, beyond all thoughts and words.

An elusive idea, an unclear goal,
which people develop, because they are bold.

They see above, and beyond the horizon,
chasing a rainbow which they so desire.

Little did they know, that all which they see,
Is transparent and illusory, unlike what they believe.

Instead of thinking,
in terms of purpose and meaning.

Why not realize,
that true happiness is within me?

Chasing so far for things which may not be true,
how about I work toward,
an actual truth I can use?

Things come to be, and things come to cease.
What is there, that will not be like this?

By chance they are formed,
and by chance they are broken.
Who can say, that they last forever?

Through no choice of ours, we are forced into some,
And through no choice of ours, some eventually come apart.

The nature of things is temporary like this,
and yet we have a choice:
Should we continue like this?

We chase after an unreachable goal,
knowing it will fail, yet we still remain bold.
Aware that all things ultimately cease to be,
We make a choice, one that we know and see.

To strengthen our relationships, to last as long as can be.
Is what ultimately, matters to me.

The world is dark, and hope is bleak,
nothing is ever what seems to be.

Enemies abound, with skepticism inbound.
Society influences what I think is within me.

My potential is what, and friends who,
those are determined not by me but you.

Not trusting myself, and looking to others,
my opinions are unlike no other.

Forced to conform, to what is not me,
Gradually I lose my identity.

Yet what is within me, what I truly see,
is that I will always be free, to choose what I believe.

Merely Living, merely existing.
One transforms the fabric of the world.

The web of karma, complex as it is,
intertwines the fates of all that exists.

The meaning of life, self-determined it may be,
fragile like the opinions of thee.
Break like glass in the face of conflict.

My fragile ego, illusory it is,
Easily broken, easily challenged.
The meaning of life so easily unbalanced.

This is a pain, this too a sorrow,
feeling worthless, there is no point in the morrow.

Yet simply being, simply existing,
despite all the pain that it may bring,
Is like a shining light, an endless spring.

The source of all joy, and the bringer of peace.
By merely living, all beings will be at ease.

The shining star, standing strong in the void,
an infinite expanse of emptiness.

The darkness of the world, all-pervading,
surrounds what little brightness that is left.

It is the pillar which stands,
at the core of the world,
supporting and giving life to all it sees.

It may not last forever,
nor live as long as can be,
it exists solely to bring amnesty.

Forgiving all those who were dark,
giving all of them light,
it dispels the coldness, with that which is bright.

Others may doubt it,
as the darkness still pervades.
Some will see this as a mere escapade.

Yet the truth stands strong,
No matter what others may say.
The light will stand strong, up until the end of days.

One day it will cease, as all things end,
Then another pillar shall rise again.

The pain of the world,
Continuous and ever flowing.

Never ceasing, never ending,
Exactly when was the beginning?

Roaming, wandering, stopping, thinking,
I see suffering and all its underpinnings.

Painful it may be, everlasting it may seem,
Eventually all of it ceases to be.

To discover this cessation, this end to suffering.
I bring forth my attention, mind and will.

For the sake of myself, and all other beings.
Wandering the world since beginningless time,
I summon forth the strength, a well of power.
And sally forth I shall, to end myriad suffering

Though this body may cease to be,
and all meaning meaningless to me,
What matters is I tried, to do what is meaningful to me.

For my existence is value, as is all those who know pain.
May they walk forth, for the sake of the world and thee