From the dawn of time,
To the break of day,
Beings which live,
progress day by day.

Be they small,
or be they tall,
all humans are characterized,
By the way they fall.

The steeper the *****, the bigger the fall,
yet that elusive goal, becomes better for all.

Some fall fast, while others stand tall,
Some stand with others when they know they'll fall.

Filled with ambition, or the need to survive,
All strive their best, regardless of the grind.

Lofty goals abound, reasonable ones flourish.
The ones who chase after them,
like moths going to perish.

Seeking simple paths, some never fall,
yet the joy that they feel, is not something for all.
Living life with regrets, with things left undone,
they abandon their beliefs for that which has none.

Others aim high, reaching for the sky,
Even without ability, they believe themselves to fly.
Not percipient of danger, nor grounded by truth,
Even if they succeed, it is entirely a fluke.
In time they fall, as things cease to be,
thus dwelling on the pain and anguish of this,
They ultimately perish, emptiness within thee.

Yet others remain reasonable, firm and strong,
Striving for goals, ideals yet in reach.
With a plan of action, they move step by step,
Falling continuously, yet continuing without rest.

These men of knowledge, wisdom and strength,
know what is of value, goals and when.
They do what is needed, no more no less,
Understanding their limits, they progress where they can.
Picking the time, date and place,
They progress ceaselessly at their own pace.
Walking a path, no other dare face.
Eventually they succeed, doing what no other has done in their place.

Fulfilling their wishes, these three types of men,
lay down paths which all can comprehend.
The path well travelled, is one documented,
yet it remains one, for those simply content.
Their paths are normal, insignificant to most,
yet within contains tranquility beyond those foremost.
For what is deep is simple, what is profound, penetrating.
Those which are simple, may have seen all paths converging.
Seeing the truth lying within one single space,
he walks the shortest path, where the truth stays in place.

The path next travelled, is one filled with fools,
those with ambition, and the guts to pursue.
Lessons abounding, it is a path less travelled.
For the bravery you need, cannot be unravelled.
A path with a victory nowhere in sight,
one can only hope what he does is right.
Yet at the end of the day, be it success or may-day,
There will be those happy in this day.
This self-made goal, with no end in sight,
That is what makes these people fight.

The final path, is the path of the sage.
Penetrating the light, they are endowed with what’s wise.
Without an end in sight,
Nor a beginning to be seen,
They enlist the help of others, to make what should have been.
Combining the efforts, of all those who are wise.
They lead everyone, to the very next sunrise.
Paving a path, slowly but surely,
All hardly fall, yet are brought with surety,
A final destination that everyone seeks,
Creating a future that none will call bleak.

What is left behind, are many paths men will find,
Stories and legends, tales of success.
Goaded by what they are driven in life,
All will ultimately choose, what legacy they leave behind.

The beauty of the day,
long and hot it may be,
Eventually its beauty,
will cease to be.

The sun which shines,
illuminates the world, across all empty skies.
Through wind and rain,
clouds and night,
the impact of its light,
is simply all that is bright.

Yet all that is goodness,
Warmth and Joy
That which is value,
do not last to help you.

As the day passes,
this very sun shifts.
Across the land,
this very sun drifts.

The splendour of good men,
prevalent they may be,
are like the sun which brings everyone,
Ecstasy.

A lamp in the darkness,
A guide to the lost,
The sign which tells others,
"Not everything is lost"

With the passage of time,
people are forgotten.
Vague memories of past,
like ideals, begotten.

What was once good,
Replaced by the bad.
What was once bright,
Replaced by the dark.

The shadows of the sun illuminate the land,
Gradually darkness, completely descends.

I lament the darkness, the loss of good,
the prevalence of decadence and immoral prudes.

Yet in the corner of my eye, a brightness still shines,
far brighter than even the sun at noontime.

Reflected across, the resplendent water-like mirror,
Is that which is good, shining ever brighter.

The Virtues that be, Honesty and Peace.
The Wish that all beings, will be at ease.
The Strength to carry on with unwavering will,
in the ensuing darkness, about to prevail.

It is at times of darkness, where warriors stand and fight,
Where enemies hide in the darkness of night.
Facing an impossible, unending task,
They pick up the pace,
Without any question to ask.

Eventually they pass on,
their lives forgotten,
Yet their impact remains,
As "The Brightest Men of Day"

The Light of Fire,
Burning Bright,
Shines across the moonlit plain.

There it lies, untouched, unmarred.
Steady like the shining sun.

Yet no matter how strong, steady and bright,
Eventually it snuffs out under the moonlit night.

And there lies darkness, empty and cold,
it fills up the place, until ages of old.

What comes will go,
What is bright shall cease.
Nothing is there,
that will not be like this.

Yet even this darkness,
all-pervasive it may be.
Eventually it, too.
Ceases to be.

With the break of night,
Impermanence dawns.
Even that which is not,
becomes nothing as well.

In darkness and cold,
all beings tremble.
Some become lights for others to handle.
They guide other beings, no matter who they may be,
and bring them to places they would never see.

Giving others glimpses of what it means to be bright,
even when gone, others begin to seek the light.

Eventually time passes, these flames disappear,
remnants of a time where people adhere.
To values and truth, of goodness and will,
A power and strength which none can prevail.

Thus in the darkness of night, people reside.
They push on and eventually,
see the dawn of light.

An elusive idea, an unclear goal,
which people develop, because they are bold.

They see above, and beyond the horizon,
chasing a rainbow which they so desire.

Little did they know, that all which they see,
Is transparent and illusory, unlike what they believe.

Instead of thinking,
in terms of purpose and meaning.

Why not realize,
that true happiness is within me?

Chasing so far for things which may not be true,
how about I work toward,
an actual truth I can use?

Something we should
all figure out
it's the concept and perplexion of
successfulness--

the conquest
for hopefulness
and fulfillment.

Ideally you'll be
a blazing rush of energy
that spontaneously
brings light into
the void-less world.

But truly
you'll be a blithering
formality of linguistics--

a fundamental
inconsequence
of ample indignity;
cemented  by
a platitude of
adulterated gusto.

Simple joys
fun ideas
imagination
are all you
ever really needed.
(to find success)

What do you want?
My rot soul,
soft dry lips,
thirsty eyes,
is what I have.

Though I know this.
Empty cups,
hands and legs,
failure's bliss,
is what you owe.

That's what you always tell me,
That's what I always know.

I am not a believer in the popular notion of God or Allah or Yahweh or Prabhu or Bhagwan or Rabb or any other concept.

I do believe that something has created all of it but that power isn't as selfish to make its creations worship it. The power will be happy if we remain faithful towards life on Earth and do not conduce in destroying any form of life that can express its pain animatedly.

I despise the promise of a place in an imaginary place called heaven or paradise if we comply with the words conveyed to a single person by the fictional creator or the punishment in boiling oil if we don't comply with the words conveyed to that fictional man.

Heaven is nowhere if logic is to be heeded to, but heaven is now here if love, compassion and brotherhood towards all creatures on this planet is on our minds while all of us humans loyally comply with our duties.

Any creator, that will tell a man (probably on marijuana) in his dreams that nonbelievers are to be either converted or killed before the descent of Pralay/Qayamat/Doomsday, is a figment of imagination which propagated through the course of time.

Do good, practice fidelity to your family and your Karma will be balanced to help you attain Nirvaņa.

I find myself
questioning what comes after,
the eyes roll back
and the lids stay closed.
I find myself
looking for the hereafter
tripping over bones.
Reflections staring back at
my soul,
as if there's something wrong.
I find myself
on the other side,
can't seem to coincide
with my other life.
I divide,
multiplying override.
Losing track of time,
my mind don't seem to mind.

This black and white place
is missing the grey space,
I pace with a ******* face.
Stuck in hereafter,
I wonder what comes after.

Search
and ye will perceive
that you have been pursued

Pursued
and perhaps persuaded
Then prevailed upon
through and through

Prevailed within a purpose
a purpose of the truth
The truth of a proclamation

Proclaiming the promise
of pure and perfect Love
for You.

  -R.

(05)
-TX