A swing in the park

I ambled in the park on a bright spring day
What joy it is to watch the children play!
Amidst peals of laughter, shrieks and cries
One little child on a swing caught my eye

When the swing went up, a chest-thumping roar
On its way down, he'd let out a painful moan
He'd flail his limbs before the inevitable rise
And beam with pride at all the fleeting highs

Oh, but a child is he, little does he know
That in the swing's swings he plays barely a role
To see this truth someday, I hope he'll be wise
There need be no shame in the fall, nor pride in the rise

Liberated

A tiny boat dots the boundless sea

Under the glow of the morning sky

Centered in the calm of the ocean's deep

Yet bobbing with the ebb and tide

Unhurried, and with a joyous peace

It cruises as the currents flow

Its sails, caressed by the gentle breeze

They pine for no distant shore

Over golden drops of the sun that glitter

And adorn the playful waves

The boat, like a mind that is free, unfettered

Glides into the beautiful day

A beautiful moment

She came by me, a beauty sublime

With the gentle warmth of winter sunshine

As morning dew, her soft embrace

A scented zephyr, her elegant grace

But I rue I paid her attention scant

For my mind was lost in distant lands

Of battles past, of scars and tears

Of dreams for the morrow, of hopes and fears

As I ambled back, I am sad to say

I found her gone, she'd slipped away

Now I wonder why, when the moment arose

I didn't smell its joy, I didn't hold her close

---

As we step into the new year, here's wishing all of us more awareness of the beautiful moments of life. Because, with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Alchemy

Look there, a feather floats in a breeze
Carefree and calm, in an easy peace
Over fields of gold, and a clear blue sky
With a lightness of being, and a heart of joy
Embracing the world with its open arms
For 'tis a wonderful life, so full of charm

But in a moment, it turns a block of lead
Weighed down by bitterness of words unsaid
Curled in from the world, distant and closed,
For the thorns around, they so prick and poke
The sun doesn't shine, no light comes in
And a poison brews in the dark within

Oh, what a consummate alchemist is He
For He needs no more than a minute or three
To paint the bonny sky a shade of wintry grey
To make the fields of gold all just melt away
To turn the twinkle in the eye a teary red
To morph the mind from a feather to a block of lead

The mighty river

"Whence comes your strength, your majestic force

That moves mighty ships, births life on your shores?"

I ask the river, and she, with a puzzled eye

Looks up to me and says "But what strength have I?

I am molten snow that rolls down the hill

Along the paths paved by Mother Nature's will

The brooks feed me, the rain helps me grow

Down to the sea I am but impelled to flow

I claim no great force, for who is this "I"?

Am I the tiny brook, the grey cloud in the sky?

Am I the wisp of vapor that rises from the sea?

Am I the child of nature that bows to gravity?

The ships of mighty men, or a child's paper boat

Oh! What joy to know I help keep them afloat

But I say this, my friend, not with humility

I do naught, it all just happens through me"

-----

This concept of "acting without being the doer" is expounded in many Eastern philosophies. It is called "wu wei" in Taoism, which means effortless action in harmony with the flow of the universe. The Bhagavadgita, of course, delves very deep into this concept. For example, Chapter 3, Verse 27 says

prakriteh kriyamanani gunaih karmani sarvashah

ahankara-vimudhatma kartaham iti manyate

which roughly translates to "actions happen due to the forces of nature, but the ignorant man thinks of himself as the doer". The Gita also teaches us that we are just a "nimittamatra" or an instrument of nature's will. 

Ode to a fragrant flower

Your silent presence by my side

Such magic it weaves in my life

The world is filled with a fragrant joy

Its many flaws do not catch my eye

My simple life of mundane things

Dons a new charm, a new meaning

So I am glad, my love, all those years ago

I held your hand, and never let go

Lost

With open arms, what does it ask of the sky

This lofty tree laden with luscious fruit?

Why does it trill such high notes of joy

The lonely bird perched in those dark woods?

What impels the bees to fly long miles

To gather more food than they'd ever use?

Why do the ants spend their fleeting lives

Building castles of mud and other refuse?

Why so they act? How so their thoughts?

If knowing such simple souls is beyond my ken

It is little wonder that I'm forever lost

In the labyrinthine ways of the world of men