The becoming
    is not yet
    it's still early morning
    there's nothing to celebrate

    life is the waiting
   so many in yearning forget
   each moment is testing
   patience--  useless to fret

   the greater the longing
   the tighter the closed gate
   of time-  agonising
   the restless heart that couldn't wait

   joy will be in the offing
   on an unsought-after date
   with long-suffering love in flowering
   its wonders and bliss never to fade.

By the way
I can't buy
my way
through life

all I know
is I am just
a passerby

just to
keep an eye
whatever
the way

I'll dance
laugh and sing
and will happily
say some day
'Good-bye!'

I do this
you do that
not illegal
we are both glad

you do that
I do this
we bother no one
nothing is amiss

you are rich
I am poor
I care not
I don't implore

you are poor
I am rich
come share my meal
your shirt I'll stitch

you and I
we both live
harm we cause not
there's nothing to forgive

I and you
it will come--that final day
there'll be no more you and I
as each quietly walks away

None other is to blame
each chooses their own shackle
walling themselves in all corners
with every day as struggle

so easy and convenient
trying to talk oneself out of shamble
habits are worse than tyrants
the perennial source of human trouble

I would come to know
in time when I'd be redundant
the sunshine would have faded
and I'd be life-abandoned-

youth was once proud and loud
busking in hours resplendent
then came the winter of discontent
with all its dreams being forgotten

The poet dies the moment
in each poem that's written
he has drained the essence
of self-- the most poignant he has spoken

fresh breath he will redraw
upon the next visitation of inspiration
a new world he will vocalise
the dying unto words is his chosen mission.

There's no arriving
even if thought so
by the traveller
the journey is just beginning

the mind deceives
a sticking-point seeking
and speaks: 'all is resolved'-
but it's illusive thinking!

life is a process stretching
to future unknown dimensions
there is no fixed destination
every step is but a crossing

beyond the bounds of the now
mankind is born to sad desiring
the exploring into time but manifests
the heart is still in wanting.