Let go - A winter's Tale
Winter's Forest: Marianne Mathiasen
‘Stay yet a while’
Begged the tree of the leaf,
‘For this is but, time in transit
Just a season, meant to pass
The bite of cold
Will release its hold
Then again will there be
The season of plenty
Stay yet a while’
‘Nay, I can’t tarry,’
The leaf affirmed,
‘The others have left, so will I
The grip of cold is strong
And to it you might yet succumb
Bent over as you are by the force of gale...
Whence again shall I receive the invite of wind?
So the time is nigh to let go
Forthwith I bid bye’
The tree understood the leaf’s quandary
And even as it wondered,
How was one to choose
Between holding on and letting go?
How could it tell the leaf
In separation, it isn’t the tree that withers...
Resigned as it were
To the play of nature
In its parting smile, it hid its sigh
- a
I let go
I let go
I find myself again
In yet another square one
The miles I've traveled
Are all undone...
I let go
I live I cry
I dance I fly
I let go
Of broken thoughts
Forgotten woes
Unkept dreams
Begotten foes
I let go
I forsake myself in a desire to be
Not an encumbered history
But a spirit renewed
A potential set free
I let go
With no yesterday
Neither a tomorrow
No fantasies of pleasure
No baggage of sorrow
I let go
I have now
And now has me
The coming moment will decide
What the next step will be...
For I'm but an idea upheld
Another idea can also be me
I let go
To be another me!
- a
Written a few years back now re-edited and re-posted.
Dedicated to someone whose light and wisdom has touched many a lives.
Creative Numerology
Technology shrinks
the world...
diminishing intervening
distances,
to bring together
hitherto perfectly amenable
strangers,
rapidly to kissing,
colliding spheres
of individual
comfort zones…
Which, until now untested
was unknowingly rigid...
thus on impact, driving
hitherto perfectly amenable
strangers,
to poles of antagonism!
Technology shrinks
The world?
- a
every once in a while
the magic of life
is bedazzlingly revealed
by a few thoughts
making love
in their play, tantalizingly
parting that curtain
of preoccupation...
this fakir, forever seeks
a snatch of this evanescent
glimmer, before returning
to the blindfolds
of self-engrossment
Velasquez (Sevilla 1599-1660 Madrid) Tavern scene
Heed all ye tipplers merry
as ye guzzle the brew
tagging it as mere spirit,
to inebriation, the magic within
disbursed to careless disregard
For that which ye tipple with,
is wine…
And what’s wine?
Nothing more than grape
Once turgid, with hope tumescent
Delicate, passionate
Then plucked, pillaged
Crushed and abused
Brought to an untimely demise!
Thence left constrained, confined
to the ferments of its threnody
and to the ministrations of Time.
Till it forsakes the memories
of its miseries, its dreams, its individuality
to be an anima anew, flow again with life
A spirit which sings the paean
Of the land, the season, the charms
of a year, for now it’s all
which once it was not,
an encapsulation of a period
brought about by
the alchemist, which is Time
So the next time ye silent sip
the ambrosia which engages
all ye senses, listen…
and ye may hear Bacchus’ ditty
of how Time is the greatest healer of all
and how one can be more
than one’s demise, a soul
and sing forever the song
which is the love of Time!
- a
who am I to sit
in your judgment?
enmeshed in your debility
I might find
my own shadows
whom, through you,
I hope to castigate
- a