waiting for sun

Morning sun is yet to come out
The stars are still shining bright
I lie silently in my bed watching out
At the sky studded with night diamonds.

As I lay half awake and half asleep
I hear a soft whisper, gentle sound
Just outside my window, on the mango branch
That soft whisper gently rises to extreme.

Bursts forth a melody divine from the lips
Of an invisible singer, welcoming the dawn
A tiny little nightingale calling the sun
Singing the most joyous song that can be sung.


My eyes could not see him in the dark
My ears drank his singing like the earth
Drinking the rays of sun after the dark
Like drinking the raindrops after the parch.

violence and its aftermath..

A storm
Let a storm gather in the heaven
come down in your full glory
the glory only you can possess
which will show us your fury
fury against these destruction
using your name, your affection.

Killing a child of your very own
then telling that it was for you
to prove love for you
to cherish your glory
to uplift your name
to tell a golden story.

Let the storm blow away all
these old, decayed thing
that once were living, breathing
but have lost that life long.
now they only lie in pile
of useless, worthless thinking.

Once every useless thing is gone
let the heavens shine and rain
let the seeds of tomorrow be sown
full of peace, love for every thing
in harmony and full of nurturing
only love for you and your creation.

The storm
Dark, ominous clouds gathered in the horizon,
Rapidly they covered the heaven and sun
Merciless winds came down from all sides
Set to tear apart the entire world.

Every thing weak blew away in that wind
Every thing tender fell to the earth
The cruel pure light of thunders flashed
The distant drum of victory rang.

The rain

The rains came down after the storm
the cloud played the gentle drums
pure water of love and peace
came softly down from above.

They cleaned away the dust
Gathered through the centuries
They washed away all rust
From the chains around souls.

Rusted chains of slavery to thoughts
created through worshipping oneself,
Across the centuries in god’s name
all blown away in storm, washed in rain.

Every thing was pure and clear
No stains of yesterday was there
Waiting for tomorrow to come
To play after the stage was set.

The aftermath

The cruel winds blew away every thing
That was old, and rotten, shallow,
The tender seeds full of life and love
Which were sleeping deep below,
Gently opened their eyes and streched
Their limbs, yawned and sprouted out
To cover the world with luscious green.


Tomorrow

If you had seen those ominous dark clouds
looming over the horizon with dazzling sparks
heard the screaming wind and tearing thunders
you would have been surprised
such a destruction was the base
of a tree full of blossoms waiting
to turn into ripe, sweet fruits
for hungry birds and humans.
the creator creates and destroys with reason
he destroys only to built the world anew
don’t play God, don’t destroy, unless you can
bring those things, or better things back to life.