The transitoriness bewilders
happen to see a procession
one of a wedding on the north
another of a death on the south
the one so happy and merry
the other sad and sullen
distracted I stand with eyes hovering
what to make out of the incidents?
birth and death happen day in and day out
rejoice and pain occur one after another
the way life revolves with fun and frolic
the way it rotates with melancholy and sadness
nothing is there for years together
nothing is constant all along
I stand there with an understanding
the old has to give way to the young
the dry leaves fall as new ones shoot
this be the course of the life cycle
the dead and the fresh alternate
they could be the punctuations
a pause, a forward, a straight walk
all seen in the experience it unfolds.
Category: Transitory
It was a walk, a steady walk.
It was a talk, a steady talk.
It was an act, a steady act.
Lo! it was all in all a steady fall.
It was a style, inimitable.
It was a grace, unimaginable.
It was a demeanour, nonchalant.
Lo! it was all in all a systematic fall.
It was a move, instant.
It was a rise, immediate.
It was a leap, unforeseen.
Lo! it was all in all a steep fall.
Whatever it was in stature.
Howsoever it was a feature.
Whosoever it might be.
Alas! it was all in all a crazy fall.
Every thing was in order, to the dot.
Everything was arranged in the slot.
Everything looked grand and great.
Alas! it was all in all a tumbling fall.
Something mystical runs through.
Sometimes it appears to be true.
Rest of the period it is a mirage.
Oh! it is all in all a predicted fall.
The mango tree is fluttering cheerfully in the garden.
The guava tree stands solemnly grim with a heavy burden.
A whiff of air blows all of a sudden.
The treesdangle vigorously with fruits heavily laden.
The fall of little mangoes makes the heart sadden.
The ripe yellow guavas come down in dozens.
The mango and guava are a subtle reference
to the world’s impermanence.
Impermanence.
The little one had a muffin,
Eating it bit by bit,
She ate it little by little,
The taste added to her cheer,
She then took a hard bite,
A big piece got stuck,
She got choked ,
Her face turned pale,
Her eyes welled with tears,
The joy turned out dreary,
Oh! what a transformation,
All in a second.
Tiny dew drops shine like diamonds ,
They oscillate over the fragile green grass,
Shimmering in the glistening sunrise,
A beauty not to miss every morn.
Little buds peep out from the nodules,
They are in red, rose and blue,
Dancing in the morning breeze,
A beauty not to miss every morn.
Small children walk up the road to school,
They chuckle and chatter as they move,
Exchanging friendly gestures and pep talk,
A beauty not to miss every morn.
The glory of the day lies not in calls,
The charm of the hour is not based on tries,
The contentment rests on impressive sights,
That take us to infinite heights.
The beauty of the morn is not to be missed,
It has to be repeatedly cherished,
The dew drops, bud and child are personifications,
Of transcendental truth and exuberant bliss.
It Is Transitory
Leaves bloom in a lovely green hue,
Thick and dense in a clasping cue,
Spreading a canopy of shade ,
Providing a glittering like jade,
Only to fall in days few.
The rain fed rivers flow gently,
Through the pebbles and moss gracefully,
Carrying with them alluvial soil across
Enriching the fields as they cross,
Only to get into the ocean mildly.
Man lives with pomp and merry,
Arrogant and towering over all in glory,
Dictating terms to everyone with serpentine authority,
Destroying one and all with diabolical impetuosity
Only to get interred in dust shortly
It is as explicit as ever,
That which is born cannot live forever,
That which takes place will fade
Be it beautiful or ugly,good or bad,