Whatever the day
I make my way

I don't want to be extraordinary or special
    life would then be quite unbearable

I will not leap
a step at a time I'll keep

I don't have the answer
not even half or a quarter
should I mind at all
does it really matter?

They have the answers
let them preach and utter
I know there's no moon by day
no snow falling in summer.

Too much questioning
is life's constant spoiler
the fields and hills are silent
in unspoken grandeur.

Love, smiles and tenderness
these are what I dearly treasure
how could bliss and perfection be defined?
we should hark not to the ignorant philosopher.

Neither happiness nor bliss can, in real life, be a self-perpetuating state.

If that were so, we would no longer relish it as such--we would have been so used to that euphoria so as not to 'welcome' it anymore.

  It's living in the rawness of life, with its mix of happiness and sorrows, its ups and downs, its success and setbacks, its laughter and tears,
that will best define our essentiality.

Poets and mystics tend to resort to high-sounding and over-wrought language/metaphors to get across their message but,
with impassioned circumspection,  it does not hold up to the light of reality.

Poor mortals as we are,  let's hope we are blessed by simple things and small does of joy -
if such were to come our way, we would have no reason to aspire for more.

There's no reason
yesterday's footsteps to retrace
every moment we somewhat change
never quite wearing the same face

neither the stars nor the moon
know how dim or bright they'd shine
I could love you in a thousand different ways
as you'd have sensed then that very feeling of mine.

We take the present
for granted and stare
blankly into the future remote
as though we wish to be anchored there

a rose-coloured dreamscape
we carve from our wild imagination
our chagrin and angst we seek to escape
but end up in the wrong direction

the minutes tick on
the hours on our plight they prey
a mirage deceives our eyes
there's but darkness all the way

but all we have is the now
on such ground is our play
tomorrows*  is another land
that shouldn't be our foray.

The world has shrunk
   societies are floundering
   what will be the new normal?
   there's no telling.

   Held to ransom we are
   the pandemic knows no abating
   despite our sharpest wit
   we are still losing

He's calm
        who doesn't anticipate any outcome

That which to some is perfect
is others' chagrin and heartache

It took years my folly to recognise
    too long had I lived in disguise

If you don't know self-unlocking
     futile and barren is your living

It's the least easy
        to live in simplicity

I am not there yet
there's no reason now to regret

Knowing is of little value
    unless meaning it brings you

Where's the dread
once you are dead?

Where's the help beyond?
only myself alone can I depend on

Life is opaque
but not a plague

What's the future of future?
  it all depends on how much of it we treasure

Tact
is the hardest act

When being forward
is no guarantee of reward

What's knowing?
     is it just your conjecturing?

Hurry
     does not success guarantee

Get on, stop dreaming
just do the thing!

If you want all
you'd have nothing at all

Silence
is elegance

Cents and sensibility
many choose the former--a real pity!

When a thing is over-rated
it tends to be exaggerated

When people put you down
stay unmoved on your ground

To assume is dangerous
    it could lead to the perilous

Many rush to Linked-In
their life is sickly and thin

You are the authority
not society

If you are unfazed
    when people criticise
    future events that come your way
    are unlikely to antagonise

I care little for the intelligent
    most are arrogant

Often to belong
is wrong

Listen to your mind
  at least in part
  but more importantly
  trust your heart

This is the problem of wanting
it's always more than one thing!

Everyone makes a stand
what they stand for
so many don't understand

You give up never
       you are already a winner!

They looked at me once
stopped, then twice
a third time furtively they did glance
I saw the venom in their eyes.

Blame not the happening
   but your action at the beginning

Worry not of tomorrow
   it will somehow put up its own show

When knowing
is its own undoing
and not-knowing
is the self--growing

How often does ideology
lead to tyranny and lunacy!

But language's true function
we have long forgotten
at many a junction
truth we did abandon

Those who feel inferior
    they have to boast
    to sound superior
    than most

He's a crook
      being crooked is his calling
      behind the look
      the silent scheming

Too late--after the event
to repent

No lover is completely sure
         their love will endure

There's no such thing as a perfect fit
   even for those with the sharpest wit.