In the creation of God’s stunning paradise,
Adam, the first male sat devoid of any jeopardize,
Fostering the grace and loveliness of **** Eve,
looking at her natural, fiery body with wicked eyes,
Snake crawled from the other side of a forbidden tree,
Both, Adam and Eye, were uncovered and free,
External backyard stood with red ripened apples,
While his lips longed hard towards her *******,
The first ever sin, they dealt with quietly sitting,
Eating, embracing, kissing and together biting,
God, announced his anger to human on earth
Watch, you will never last, but you will give birth,
In pain to sinful sons and daughters in million,
And then, God disappeared to his pavilion,
Later, forever sinfully, they lived for mankind,
Singing the gospel of the devil so unkind.

WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

A tormented soul can perceive no radiance,
My world is a stage in light with a keen audience,
Shadows overwhelm each day within a rear,
Every second is governed by the darkest fear,
Life seems to be unreal in a covered solitude,
Lacking feelings and emotions, no gratitude,
Born to death, not alive, nothing more to feel ,
Inside is null and void, no more to go for heal,
Ecstasy has vanished, shattered towards last,
To me, no present and no future, only the past,
Craving to slumber, yet both eyes widely awake,
Cautious, how much more the life can intake,
None to laugh for a while, or just to drop a tear,
Embraced in dark rain clouds filled with fear,
Sensations take off from the corpse, yet still alive,
My love turns again to glitter, nothing to relieve.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

In the beautiful embrace of my life's haven,
Both beauty and ugliness intertwine,
Taking shape in a divine personal form.
No eternity is foreseen in the emergence,
Of the Conjoint actor, with boundless energy,
Spirituality intertwined with absolute intellect,
Endowed with unique aligned energies.
His arrival fulfills the Father's liberation,
From the notion of centralized perfection,
And from the absolutist decree of personality,
This liberation, in the Creator's decree.
Revealed in the power they share,
To craft beings with utmost care,
Fit to serve as bright ministering spirits,
Even to evolving material creatures.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

A painted world, a stage for all to see,
Yet drowned in shadows, where can I ever be?
With each passing hour, a symphony of dread,
A constant echo in this lonely head.

Life seems a mirage, a phantom in the air,
No warmth within, no solace in despair.
Born to this tomb, a prisoner confined,
No touch of feeling, no solace for the mind.

Ecstasy's song, a melody long gone,
The past a prison, the future, just the dawn
Of another day, another endless night,
Forever yearning for the fading light.

Sleep's heavy cloak, a tempting, sweet embrace,
But wakefulness lingers, etched upon my face.
How much can one soul truly bear to take?
A silent scream, a heart that's bound to break.

No laughter shared, no tears to gently fall,
Encased in fear, a prisoner of the thrall
Of endless rain, a sky devoid of sun,
A silent song, forever unsung.

The senses fade, a body wrapped in pain,
A love once vibrant, now just whispered rain.
Yet in this void, a flicker dares to spark,
A yearning whisper, breaking through the dark
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

A language beyond words, a silent decree,
Touch speaks in whispers, what eyes cannot see.

A mother's caress, a child's grasping hand,
A bridge of connection, in this vast, shifting land.

Rough bark beneath fingers, the wind in your hair,
A lover's embrace, a burden to share.

The sting of a slap, a tremor of fear,
A doctor's soft touch, wiping away a tear.

The Braille reader's dance, a world fingertips trace,
A sculptor's creation, leaving its mark on this space.

The artist's soft stroke, a world coming alive,
The potter's firm mold, where dreams can survive.

A handshake of greeting, a bond to secure,
A gentle nudge forward, when fear makes you unsure.

Touch, a tapestry woven, of sorrow and grace,
A silent symphony, etched on the face.

So reach out, connect, let your fingers impart,
The language of touch, a beat of the heart.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

EMPTY POTES
Beneath the sun, a brutal glare,
The land it cracks, a sight so bare.
The once-kind stream, a memory's trace,
Leaving parched earth, a lonely space.

The well, it coughs, a sputter weak,
Each precious drop is a treasure to seek.
The caws of crows, a mournful sound,
As life itself struggles to be found.

A mother's touch, so gentle, kind,
But weary eyes, a troubled mind.
For tiny lips, so cracked and dry,
She pleads for rain, a tear in her eye.

The farmer's back, bent with despair,
His once green fields, a barren share.
His withering crops, a silent plea,
For life-giving rain, to set them free.

But hope remains, a flickering ember,
That clouds will gather, skies remember.
To quench the thirst, of land and soul,
And make life whole, once more to behold.

For even in the harshest clime,
Compassion flows, transcending time.
With helping hands, and spirits strong,
We'll weather this storm, and carry on.
-WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

Cast from the garden, beneath skies less fair,
Eve's burden to bear, a world to repair.
Yet, in her beauty, a strength did reside,
The will to survive, the future as a guide.

Mother of all, with resilience untold,
Beauty's new purpose, braver and bold.
Not just a vision, but a spirit untamed,
Eve, the first woman, is forever unnamed.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI