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Old is Gold


A day or two ago

 met my friend of long ago 

old she has turned 

most of the calories burnt 

by age and illness in one show

found her out of flow 

staggers  a lot in her walk

 precise is she in her talk

 physically she has lost 

 mentally she is still fast 

hailed me by name all aloud 

brought back the events from cloud 

speaks out in a voice so clear 

tells me  I look like an old hag with cheer 

Knew not where to keep my face 

I pulled myself away with a long face 

not able to accept that I am also old 

she and I being the same age  in fold 

yet thought I am young not  gone grey 

as my black hair shines in the fray

with coloured dye minimal  and slight 

teeth all original and white 

no make up whatsoever in sight 

I deign myself in attire suitable 

wish to seem  like  one capable  

never did I think that I am old 

 with a smile now, I accept “Old is gold”

 

 

dying hair with henna indigo

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The Nine Gates (As I see)


It is a touch 

that resurrects as such

 a cry  so shrill

 evokes a thrill

comes there a feel 

 that allows a heal

as you blossom

love and hate coerce

with the ‘I ‘ so fierce

death almost  stares

with a white glare

everything do fade

 as water evaporates in grade

there  descends an awe 

that  transcends without a flaw 

 be it a pebble or a star in strain

 an enlightenment  attained 

with relentless discipline .

There opens the eight entry in line 

 of consciousness  in spontaneity 

 pours out ideas with dignity

enamoured by the sweet talk

 like the  grass and grasshopper in a stalk

 echo the mantra of the  Padma Sambhava 

 a seven line chant of the Tibetan bhava

 reverberates through the open window

illumined by light and blessings from above 

could perceive a delivery in a glow

 namo om