I am
A spider
Like you
Weaving
Filaments
And filaments
And I am
Out of chaos!
What about you?

Innocence
Growing up
A foil to,
Frustrated
Experience
Both stride
Side by side!

Conscious of time flowing
Every second, breathlessly
Swimming in the river
You live a life!

You cannot retrieve even
A fraction of a second of life
From the falcon's claws;
It was his favourite fish caught
From the river flowing,

You flow with the river
Look ahead, beyond the horizon
Not at the time dead and gone:
The fish hung in the claws of the falcon!

But you can mesmerize the falcon
Charm him to perch on the paths
Where you can sit under the shade
Of trees and feed them both
With the morsels of your imagination!

Life, a dream unfulfilled,
Years advnacing
In their stride, reaching  the end  
With a tottering  gait--

Or a dream realised
On an empty canvas
When the years themselves
Are beating the hasty retreat

Leaving the body paralyzed
Unlatching  the gate, releasing the soul,
A blessed prisoner
Of hope!

Life, a  journey within or
Without, a destination
Or an inevitable cul-de-sac
Reaching, yet not reached

Whatever it is
It goes on
Images emerge and merge
Of those met on the way

In the ocean of memories--
Searching for meaning
And substance,  you
Seem to be glum and dumb!

You stand and wait and ,
Pause to think about
In the middle of the road,
"On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go"

Within and without
Silences shout
At the movement,

The whirling  moment
And the stillness
Of the calm center

Defy the dead hush
And define life’s rush!

MA
(M)eaning of life you
(A)ssured  and imbibed

MOTHER
(M)eaning of love you
(O)pened to us all
(T)here you were
(H)indering the worst and
(E)mpowering us with care
(R)epeatedly, tirelessly, tenderly

MOTHER (your )
(M)easured life-span
(O)pened only to fifty summers
(T)hen you departed,
(H)ealed,  and a  soul,
(E)mancipated by the pain of
(R)uptured mortality

MA!
(M)aking us all distraught
(A)nd dumb!

The old man without wrinkles
Was playing
Patience
Spreading his cards on the bed
Talking to himself
About his moves
Engrossed in his own world
Of cards and advancing years

People are going and coming
Through his room
Not the least bothered
He is busy with
His outer world
He is not waiting for
The dead end.

When his cataract-operated eyes
Will be tired
He will express his desire
To sit in the veranda

His books and a dictionary
Will be put on the table
And he is seen engrossed
Again cut off from
The outer world
Immersed
In the world of books
Sometimes he would lift up
His head smile and look around
And again go into his self-created world,
Today I read a status on FB
About the legendary cellist,
Pablo Casals who used to practice
At the age of ninety; and beyond

I find similarity between them
Both of them are making progress
In life, defeating despair, it seems
Shutting the dark thoughts
From their inner worlds

Last night
I saw him in my dream playing
Patience and l heard
The distinct strokes of bow on a Cello

And now I woke up
With awe at the way
They were not
Actually waiting
But celebrating!