Art And Culture: CONFLAGRATIONS
Secret of life,
So simple that a flower of the forest knows,
And the sages of all eras repeat,
in a way how light transcends
From the fresh dawns
To rise from slumber that the same fire
Set ablaze to ignite a campaign
Of revulsion in the noon..
Then the shadows dance
Beneath the velvet leafs
To reform in renaissance..
As hard as the frozen ice
A wall is made of broken splinters
Of a feel of lost trust
Again how well the universe unfolds
The unknown cosmos in a way
To sit quiet and watch
The mystery of a strange landscape,
Until then it is all fragrance and grace
A sorrow hidden is pulled out.
A quarrel of the closed doors
Is strewn as requite in unkind
Compartments of life..
Renouncing a day’s struggle
It is simple that each moment
Is a gift that it is a feather of a bird
What saints of the silent hills say
In cantos of kindness
Is to find happiness in simple things
Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself’
Is for sure a golden commandment
Life at times turns out a canto of chaos
Against a scenic painting adorns
The wall of a liberal art colonnade,
Not always sit that quietly to the songs
of the savants, nor the strophes
Instead it takes a pen and splashes ink
Over it to strike through a word in cold rage
Ahead the anthem of a pure heart..
It is so simple that the flame
Is same and torch bearers
Not alike that each one ignites
A beat that has the shape
Of a secret island of despair,
Fear, love, hatred, compassion
And many such myriad feelings
Traverse not in control
In convoluted cross roads
It is not the heart changes
But the hidden flames ignited
in its secret chambers..
It is not the heart changes
But the hidden flames ignited
in its secret chambers..
Peace may be the silent ice
Gently placed on a pain filled hearth
To artfully cover the traumatic flames
For a while, as sages and saints say
Fire, rain and flowers
of all seasons, momentary!
