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Sajay Jai Singh Jun 2020
Sometimes in the big rush, I forget
That in the end, I’m just a man.
The dreamer within fails to detect,
I could go only so far, even if I ran.

It’s okay to be hurt, sad and lost,
If today, that is the man I am.
No pain worth paying the cost,
Of changing the soul’s plan.

The dreamer dreams, but the man lives,
In a world with songs of sorrow.
Learning how to accept and to forgive,
Himself, his yesterday, and tomorrows.

Generously as I give, I shall also accept,
In weakness, there is a strength great,
For what soul, is one too perfect?
And what river runs on its path straight?
Sajay Jai Singh Jun 2020
I am half the man I am.
When in myself I don’t believe.
Half the steam, half of the love.
Half of the bright will to live.

I smile half of my smiles,
When my flowers don’t bloom,
I run half of the miles,
Weighed down by clouds of gloom.

I dance half of the time,
With doubts in every step.
With this scared heart of mine,
When it is a wreck.

I see only half my blessings
When the night blinds my soul
The naive kid, forgetting
Within lies a heart of Gold.

Half of the time I wonder,
Why I’m half the man in me, just
Is it a cosmic blunder,
Or is it myself I don’t trust?
Sajay Jai Singh Oct 2016
Lost, Scarred, his lips sewn,
Walking through a forest with ghosts of thorn,
The man without a face passes me by,
“Can you see me? Can you hear me?”
At his feet, a thousand saints die,
And he walks on, looking for the light.

The sweet temptress of the dark, whispers
In his ear, a song of lust, a promise of the truth,
As he loses himself in the fleeting moments of passion, few
Her children devour his soul.
And even as her touch soothes his wounds, sore
He leaves with his shadow paler than before.

Paler he gets, the ghosts of thorn coming alive with his blood,
The desolate woods, no longer her whispers flood
For a million years he falls, never finding his light.
As lays his unmoving corpse, tree folk walk by
Whispering, “Tis the man who had no eyes.
It’s the man who had no eyes.”
This poem is about the toxic stigma that we as humans have developed around  ourselves in our daily lives, and how just because of conditioning and programming of our mind, happiness seems to be a distant place to reach. Whereas infact, true happiness must come from within. This is the feeling I try to explore within this poem. The protagonist goes on looking for the light while slowly the spark within him fades away. He finds happiness in momentary comforts (which is a metaphor for materialistic gains) but is never really happy. All his life he is looking for the light i.e happiness, and when he dies, we come to know that he had no eyes to look.
Sajay Jai Singh Nov 2015
I wanted to know what was real knowledge,
so I went to the wisest master, God,
Not to learn things of school or college,
But to go where no foot has ever trod.
.
God said," I know what you seek, child,
But if real knowledge is what you wish to gain,
You venture into mountains dark and prairies wild,
And go through joyful hurt and honoring pain."
.
I was ready to put up resistance,
Said God," To men you shall speak,
Who are the wisest of this existence,
And at the end you shall get what you seek."
.
And so I went to the Physicists,
On whose principles this world exists,
They asked, “Pascal’s law, Bulk modulus, Doppler effect, can you tell?"
I said," No sir, but like Newton, even I wondered why the apple fell."
"Sacrilege!" they said," You inelastic plastic, may your soul rest in hell."
But I remembered God's words and moved on.
.
Then I went to the scholars of Chemistry,
Who are the wisest in mankind's History,
They asked me," What about Dalton's law, KTG, inorganic Benzene, can you say?"
"Nothing, sir, but I wonder about molecules and atoms, night and day!"
"Sacrilege!" they said, " You miserable molecule, May in hell your grave lay."
But I remembered God's words and moved on.
.
Then I went to the supreme Mathematicians,
Whom I consider as God's own magicians,
They asked me," What on methods of solving DEs, LMVT, can you speak?"
"Nothing, sir, but I work on theorems of Euler, the mathematician Greek."
"Sacrilege!" they said," You rootless equation, may you end up in the Devil's steak."
But I remembered God's words and moved on.
.
Indeed, I felt sorry for their and the future generations' plight,
But at the end of the road, I realized God was right,
It’s not about knowing Pascal's, Dalton's or Euler's shouts,
Its knowing how to live life to your fullest, every time you breathe in and breathe out.
Sajay Jai Singh Feb 2016
The maker of the world, when tall he stood,
When the canvas and his imagination lay bare,
Did he gaze confidently, or did he blankly stare?
Was his brush smooth, or did he brood?
.
When he made, the rivers deep, and mountains high,
The forests dense, the tides of the seas,
Did he put the tiger in the forest, snakes, hives and bees?
And put sharks in the sea and vultures in the sky?
.

And as he made the bare woman form,
Making her legs long and arms, slender,
Was it he who filled her *****,
And made her instinct raw, and body tender?
.
And while making man, his final masterpiece,
Who gave curiosity to the chosen one?
Which led him to war as well as peace,
The gift that made homes, and also made the gun?
.
To make them live as one, mankind,
All the bodies were by his brush equal, drawn,
Who then, but gave man the power of mind,
Making some live as kings, while others as pawns?
.
And indeed, does he sometimes in quiet, smile?
As man scales the mountains and conquers the Nile,
Or does he heave a sigh, in agony and pain?
As justice doesn't dawn and fear still reigns?
Sajay Jai Singh Nov 2015
I wonder, sometimes, what it's like,
Life, beyond this pale, grey sky,
Damaged, torn from horror and spite,
Is this world insane, or am I?
.

Once a meadow green, lays now this land barren,
This silence sickly, was once broken by the music of the raven,
Sunlight once flooded bright, the bleak blemish behind which I now cower,
The landscape of mind, was once where had bloomed the flowers.
.

And as these walls close in, and fades away the place,
Weak, trembling, writhing, I give in,
As I look at the white cloaked mans' face,
And his nod of approval, as I fall into the void within.
.
A sea of white.
The raven from childhood.
.
Sing to me raven, I beg, take me there,
To the place where I was alone and happy,
I begin to wonder, as he silently stares,
Was a curse of time, this, or am I the watchmaker?
Sajay Jai Singh Dec 2015
What is a man, if not a moment of time?
A moment, lived truly alive,
Soul dancing to the hymn of life,
Pure, lucent, the chains forgotten?


What is a man, if not a drop of rain?
Falling into the sea's might,
Together with so many, and yet alone,
Not knowing, or comprehending, yet putting up a fight?


What is a man, if not a child?
At the quest of a treasure, mundane,
Laughing, crying, at a moments rest,
As the waters of his mind rage disdain?


What is a man, if not a childish dream?
A glimpse of the truth.
A picture, divine.
What is a man if not the truth inside?


What is a man, if not his deepest fear?
Monsters which under the veil, hide,
What is a man, who knows not,
The darkness is all but an absence of light?


What is a man, if not a closed fist?
Clutching, hanging on to an illusion, vain,
"To let go would be  absurd", he tells himself,
As the other hand wipes tears from the pain.


What is a man, if not a fool, sly?
Calling the truth too fantastic, the song too sweet?
A fish afraid of the sea, a bird fearing the sky,
What is a man, if not his spirit, indeed?


What is a man, if not a writing in dust?
Words, which in the next moment, cease,
What is his life, if not a delusion?
Erased from existence, come the breeze?

— The End —