I gazed faraway from my window
into the misty winter dark
waiting for the appearance of a shadow
that shall be you who would bring me love's divine spark.

* inspired by A WINTER'S TALE by Carina

I gazed faraway from my window
into the misty winter dark
waiting for the appearance of a shadow
that shall be you who would bring me love's divine spark.

*  inspired by Carina's A WINTER'S TALE

Today-
do I have
something
worthwhile
to write or say?

my heart
I must search
myself I'd demean
if from duty
and responsibility
I walk away

for too easily
ego takes the day's
centre-stage
and I in my folly
fall a ready prey

the day
ah, the grandeur
and splendour!
the self-becoming
the beauty-unfolding
what role should
I play
on the shore
of humanity
or to my shame
my puerile self
and callousness display?

I and the world
others and I
faces I encounter
as each person
I walk by
a mask
I should not wear
my heart
I should unlock
to breathe and take in
life as it manifests
even in its most minuscule
and humble is-ness

I shouldn't walk away
either in nonchalance
or derision but feel
the common pulse
of which I'm part
thereof or become less
of what I should be
for all life is verily
one heart beating
in the corporate symphony
whose every note
speaks of both
you and me
of our joys, our sorrows
our fears, our tears
our nobility
our common humanity--

and I can't but think
of Beethoven's immortal Choral Symphony
An Die Freude set to Schiller's poetry
and to myself I say
make this a day
of joy and thanksgiving
my very day
lest
I might not again
pass this way.

* 9.50 a.m. Melbourne time,  20th January 2018

A child
then
an adolescent
growing to be a man-

in my twenties I never doubted
the world had no end
of possibilities-- life
would just gladly hold my hand

and open before my eyes
to all wonders and its generosity lend
as my dreams with such passion I pursued
in every circumstance or at any bend

of time-- but the now before me
is an unwelcome wakening-- a friend
it is not but a teaser and mocker
a spoiler of my every plan

what should an adult
tell a child?  ' I've no message to send
you but just a warning-- beware
when you are older you' d understand

dreams don't last and hopes are fragile
however strong and unwavering you make your stand
living is never an easy crossing and too often
you'd  find yourself walking upon sinking sand?'

I turned left
then right
I looked in front
and back
even side-way
quite forgot
what the fuss
was all about-
but people wouldn't stop
the same message
they continued to chant:
'We have found the Truth'--

ten a.m.
in the city
clouded by thick mist
the faces of the crowd
I couldn't see clearly--

St Paul's bell
struck gently
the voice of choir
I heard--I stepped away
from the swelling crowd
saw a mother holding
her child's hand
as they entered the church
'Hurry,  Rosie, we are late...'

that moment
was sublime
as though
the veil
of a deep mystery
had unfolded before me--
it touched my heart
so deeply
I couldn't tell why
so many years had gone by
that morning
I still remember
it made me cry.

But this state of mind
is not self-chosen
but thrust upon
by life's myriad slings
of suffering
and indifference

the body and mind
are first buffeted
and later bruised and hurt
marks of pain are imbedded
like those branded
on the backs
of sheep and lambs
to stay and persist
to linger on and to violate
until life's last breath--

to be mortal
to be human
to feel
to hope
is to know Weltschmerz
sooner or later
few could such escape
seldom does its intensity
subside or abate

the monotony
the sameness
the chagrin
the weariness
the emptiness
the unchanging taste
of repeated experience
the brevity of joy
the hard knock of constant sorrow
on the weak and vulnerable door
of the heart, already shrinking
and sinking
the too-quick ending
of a love-song
and the night--kiss
vanishing
at the first peep
of the day's dawning

the unbearable thirst that's only
satisfied momentarily
but never quenched
soon enough the spring
dries up and the drought
sets in to aggravate--the despair
that returns to roost, hovering
ready for descending
on the self in quivering--

life has lost its meaning
living is but struggling
the moon has gone into hiding
the stars are tired of glittering
the tides are waning
the flowers are drooping
the trees are weeping
and love is farewelling--

Weltschmerz
the ultimate angst
that festers and invades
our total being.

The grass remembers me
last night in my dream
to me it spoke--its voice
was clearer and warmer
than any human's:

'  on me you had so often trodden
   I remember every step of yours
   but you had long forgotten-

  you were a toddler
and your mum said-
walk, you can, walk, my boy
you can--you fell on me
and she came to lift you up
I watched- the scene
almost brought tears
to my eyes-

then you went to school
taller, stronger, surer
on your way home
you would throw
your school-bag on top
of me and lie down to rest
amidst the sound of birds-
you were a dreamer
and often a song to yourself
you would sing
and I too remember
on a certain day you
were reading Homer
there in the green
you would linger
and wander
only to return home
at a late evening hour--

how could I forget
that spring when you
brought your dear Emma
and sat on me as you turned
your head to whisper
the secrets of your heart
to her?
how her eyes did glitter
and love was written all over
her radiantly dreamy face
ah, youth's splendour and ardour!
  
on your wedding day
a party was held on the lawn
which was my home
and to myself I said:
this little boy I knew
long ago
is a man now
Emma he didn't let down
surely their love would grow
their happiness would know
no measure--

the happiest days
of your life came-
with your kids
you played at the spot
where I first met you
I shared your every joy
and laughter-

now as you walk on me
your steps are slower
and lighter
you seem calmer
gentler and quieter
hand-in-hand
your walk with Emma
you know not
I can feel
I can understand
the mysterious wonder
of the human heart
yes, you have forgotten
all that's gone before
but I remember
and will not cease
to remember.

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