Passing hard and soft exhausting terrains,
In my journey of searching for truth
I came to the base of the Mountain of Truth,
That has a plaque of gold:

“Looking for truth?
Then, climb up quick”

Though already
Mercilessly breathless,
Cheerfully, I obliged

On the top of the Mountain too
Staring at me is a plaque of gold

“Looking for truth?
Then, climb down, quick” (2020)

BOOKS

Author, pundit,
Why, burn this
Mountain of books?

They filled my head
And blanked my mind;
Take them, if you so like.

What good is it in there for me
In this plenty of emptiness.

Enquirer, my dear young fellow,
Let emptiness fill your mind well
Then scribe your own tomes too
It’s only then you see in real trueness
The emptiness lies in all wisdoms (2020)

The honored author
Of some of these books!
Why the erudite Pundit,
Burn this huge mountain of books

I sopped up all these books;
So, they filled up my head
And voided my mind;
If you so like
All these books are yours.

If they emptied you, Sir,
What use they are to me then?

No, my dear young lad
Fill up your head with the books
And scribe your own books too
Only then you can really see
The emptiness of books

My mind sees God
Evolution, Big Bang
Mirages, and horizons

God, what is this?

Take my mind back
Give me sanity.

The canoe is
Emerging from
The horizon

My dreams,
Are too heavy
For the canoe, and

Should be junked
Into the river,
Before I get in

Soon, I will cross the river
But isn’t it a dream too?

How equal?

In the other side
Of the rope;
Only me.

In this side also;
Only me.

The canoe
Emerges through
The horizon

Dreams, too heavy
For the Canoe,
Belong to the river

Soon, I will cross the river, but
Is it a dream too?