Everyone has a secret trademark
known to him alone
it makes him what he is
that brand he singularly does own

it will last for ever
from it  he will never part
it is his most precious diamond
it rules his soul and heart

Losing
is better than winning
you acquire humility

Losing
your egoism
sets you free

Losing your pride
lends you
acceptability

Letting go
of your temper
gives you tranquillity

Losing
your selfishness
confers charity

Losing
your greed
your prize is being content and happy

Ridding yourself
of bad habits
you gain mastery

Losing
is a word to be watched
it will save you from a lot of misery

I can't be more than
     what I am
     only this and this alone defines me-
     should I further claim
    
    I do myself an injustice
     weeds are not roses and lemon
     is not champagne
     on this I need no lesson

     I know
     my station
     in this tiny faraway corner
     I seek no recognition

     little blessings I hold so dear to my heart
     sorrows  I accept with utmost humility
     of life's treasures I ask for none
     this is my happiness--simplicity

You do yourself wrong
thinking
it is angst to be waiting

waiting
is
life's testing

of your patience
and endurance
preparing

you for tougher trials ahead
and looking
back--you will be thanking

life
for every opportunity
to be waiting

the greatest gift you will be receiving
is when you have taught your heart
to wait for love's sweetest ripening

SONG OF THE PAINTER
                       (Dedicated to ...)


My mind swims in the endless sea
Of myriad shapes and colours
A mysterious force guides my hand
To create light,  shade and contours.

The whole universe beckons to me
Its pulse I feel, its beauties I see
I let my fancies roam wild and free
I touch the edge of eternity.

Every stroke of my brush
Vibrates like  a string of my heart
I leap into a kaleidoscopic world-
The Acadian garden of art.

In every shape and colour
An echo of music do I hear
The painter is an orchestrator
Of beauty that is ever sweet and dear.

This is another kind of death
of our own making
we die not once
but through our whole life-time
moment by moment
bit by bit

this is the sad and tragic story
of our moral decay
and spiritual death


through lies
and untruths
we give away
the best in us
so that we may live and survive

never mind the prize
we pay
what we care about
is the moment and the day

the end justifies the means

we learn the power of words
we grind them to knife-sharp
they glitter
and acquire the power to cut through
the hardest stone

the smartest
the most successful and powerful
are those
who have perfected
the art of lying
and manipulation
supreme masters
of pretence
and deception

who really cares about
moral decay?
spiritual death?
who is speaking?

Does the past have
an 'expiry date'
as in merchandise
'best consumed by...' ?

If I had no past
what am I then?
could it be obliterated and meet
with a sudden end?