Marijuana
Birds of darkness
Are flying in every direction,
In the cactus forest.
The sky is a dark ocean
With drowning sun, moon and stars.
The life is trapped in whirlwinds of sand.
When the wounds of his soul bleed,
The medicine of green leaves
Courses in his veins
To take him to a new universe.
After reaching the dreamland
Of the shining milky-way,
He sleeps peacefully
Under the sheet of moonlight;
Unconscious,
He floats away
In the soothing waters of contentment.
The journey
Breaking away
From the boundless
Expanse of the universe,
A tiny particle
Flew on the wings of the wind
To come down to the earth.
Wearing the robe of the body,
It danced holding hands
Of the beautiful earth.
It lost itself
In the melody of the time
And its own ecstasy.
Not far away,
The wind, languishing peacefully,
Was watching the dance
With a quizzical smile on its face.
Eventually, the wind rose,
Tore away the robe of its body
With its sharp talons,
And took it away on its wings
From existence to non-existence.
The tiny particle
Again became a part
Of the expanse of the universe.
Clay and the potter’s wheel
On the potter’s wheel of time,
A lump of clay
On the fast revolving wheel
Turns into many shapes.
These shapes assume new forms,
And then scatter into the air.
After scattering,
They re-appear on the potter’s wheel
To be revolved again
To assume new shapes.
This spectacle on the potter’s wheel
Has been going on since the Beginning,
And will continue forever.
The potter, however,
Is never satisfied with his creations.
The traffic
Melodies dancing in circles;
The peel of laughter, happiness, light;
Splendours of life and celebration;
The smiling air bathed in fragrance:
In this atmosphere, a trembling tear,
And its heart-rendering screams.
The merriment, however, still went on.
And then, one day
The sighs went in circles;
Every eye brimmed with tears;
The life became wrapped
In boundless pain.
The moist air
Now, the lips of voice
Are in complete peace.
Now, every chain is severed.
Now, a perpetual light
Graces the face.
The surroundings,
However, still resound with wails.
The maze
There is a clamour
In the maze.
A million snares
Are laid on each complex path:
New streets, tall walls,
Street crossings are all new
But look familiar.
On every pathway,
There are moats and traps of quicksand.
In every street,
There are thorns
Around every wall.
Children, however,
Are busy in their game
Of hide and seek.
There are some simple souls,
Who are looking
For doors
That are never to be found.
Paper flowers
The garden is in bloom with colours.
Pearls of dewdrops
Strung in a silk thread
Gleam on the ground.
The morning breeze
Tickles half asleep trees.
Swaying branches
Stretch in ecstasy.
Colourful flowers and leafs
Are in abundance.
But the butterflies, bees and birds
Are nowhere to be seen.
Immersed in deep thought
The breeze has returned from the garden
After searching for the fragrance.
The garden has become a grave
For dry leafs and flowers.
Now the dust is covered
With paper flowers and leafs.
This delicate silk rope
A delicate
And beautiful
Silk knot is wound around me;
It winds and unwinds like a reel
With one of its ends
Being pulled
By a mysterious hand in the mist.
The winding and unwinding silk rope
Keeps disappearing in the mist.
One day,
The empty dancing reel
Will fall silent suddenly.