She sat on the park bench
basking in the afternoon sun,
when a brown ripe oaknut landed on her lap.

She gazed at it without distraction,
Its colour, shape, symmetry-filled her with immense satisfaction.
The English Oak tree had crafted it with perfection.

Clearly, it was there with a message-

You will take a lifetime,
to truly know my nature.
How could you ever get bored,
when there is creator’s magic everywhere.

What to believe,
What not to believe
You ponder.

Life is relative,
so don't get deceived.

Only that which you
experience and perceive,
must be believed.

Hello cosmos,
I ask for forgiveness
for every act of compulsiveness.

There is no breeze this evening,
and not a single leaf is dancing.

Bird songs fade in the distance,
Everything is still in its brilliance.

It feels like nothingness-
Wish I could have this within me.

For that which is still
can only act consciously.

It's a chilly autumn evening,
I sat for dinner with my gorgeous wife, leaning.
She turns of the artificial lights
and fires up a unimpressive wax candle and sighs.

The candle sits majestically on a hand made wooden stand,
My attention switches from her to it, like the seconds hand.
What's the story I wonder? Some of it melts down the stand,
some of it vanishes, ceases to exist, like dreamland.

It burns to give light and warmth
and yet asks nothing in return.

Wish I could be like a candle.

Back to dinner now.

It wakes up to the warmth of the morning rays,
The dew starts evaporating from the grass blades,
when the first joggers and pet dogs make their way.

As the day progresses, it becomes a playground
for young lovers, artists, birds and nature’s sounds,
Kids join the drama after school, and many more *** around.

My park is loaded with innumerable memories everyday
but all that is left is trash and dog poo at the end of the day,
Only to wake up again to the warmth of the sun the next day.

A tiny daring spider built a gorgeous circular web
on my window pane. It's in my view
again and again. I reserved
that spot as my look-out-to-think pane. But now
the spider has taken it, dare I complain.

Rain, wind and sun have blessed the spider’s dwelling,
as I watch him hide in the web’s corner wrapped in silk
and pouncing on his prey. He clearly is not scared
of me and uses the glass as god’s grace.

I ask him everyday-
But why that pane?
Do you have calendars or time constraints?
Are you in bliss, sadness, or pain?

He finally came, in my dream last night,
Dressed in a beautiful white silky robe, very bright,
and said in a husky voice-

Just like you, I am the creator’s creation,
Here to fully blossom in this incarnation ,
But you and I very different,
All life is relative, it's an illusion.