LIVING MY SOUL

They say the spirit and the body makes a man whole…

But what if I want to be free and live my soul?

What if the beautiful things are not seen

What if there’s an exceeding unknown beauty within?

What if the living so called is not living but dead…

And dead rather awake.

The soul lives and the body lives,

The body dies but the soul still lives.

What is anything divine…beyond creation?

When everything is an assumed illusion?.

Dust am I to Dust I return

But I am a soul…where do I belong?

The Earth and the Paradise

Have been shuffled by the wise.

The attributes of a man and all those courage

God himself said was made in his image…

If literally , was that his goal?

To make a man physical with a soul?

Why couldn’t He make or remake

A wind like soul widely awake…

Like invisible seasons coming and going

Not leaving us wondering but rather a feeling.

That way Adam and Eve would’ve no fall

No sin, no lust, nothing corporal.

No fever and no fret

But only the serene God’s breath.

No face to judge, no physical fall

Graceful and living, yet invisible.

Jesus wouldn’t had to be betrayed

Lord Buddha, at home could’ve stayed.

There would be no blood nor murder

Nor anything amiss the shatter.

Distance wouldn’t matter for nothing would be far

Nor could the physical eye witness the horror of the war.

Living body-less

Even Devil couldn’t possess,

No treachery, no lies nor good-byes

No hollow meaning that we are born to die.

But life half-imagined

Is fully challenged.

The superior voice decides

And we mortals do abide…

The body and the soul

As the holy communion is one whole…

For body is it’s own heaven

And in the death of which we find salvation.

 

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THANK THE UN-THANKED

The grey walls I am writing about,

A cemented block and of course the color grey….

A gloomy color no doubt

But not a tragic story to say.

You can be familiar

With the same faded memories,

Life of difference yet so similar

For even inanimate things have histories.

I am not talking about the past, for all it brings is plague

Nor of the people remarkable or hardly remembered

But those long-gone days so precious and vague

Of tales forgotten the service rendered and non –living life treasured.

The look on your face—-

The confused look that my lines seem a riddle

Not and clear defy time and space

The grey walls I am talking about just recall….

Years ago add or divide the ten

A privileged eyes to enter the magnificent gate

The same hands holding a beloved now holds a pen

Recall those days and count backwards till date.

You and I share the same story

maybe not the same memory.

The days of innocence-yes my topic

A young old grey walls a total nostalgic.

A cartoon bag did you have it too?

Being so tidy just to be untidy

Did you realize we are the privileged few?

To be loved when returned with a bruised knee.

The colors painted the gray classroom

Just to match the new souls so bright

Ravages of time we couldn’t half assume

The gray walls turned bright or bright souls gone white….

Imagination too painted the grey classroom

The question why my blackboard was green

One loving matron coming to broom

The dirty floors magically clean.

The cruel mates who stole the favorite toy

Pencils and sharpeners the latest accessory.

Homeworks would hardly annoy…

as Teachersto tell our favorite story.

Where are those days now?

Could the cycle of life or the parallel universe get it  back?

Gone are those days and facing it with ignorant How’s!

Today, yesterday’s tomorrow goes back to black.

Many words,lyrics and poems emerge

Of memories,childhood etc by the greatest poets.

I, a no-one yet, writing a dirge

Not of the dying year but of the dead walls and chalk baskets.

When the world itself chooses to lose it’s value

Or a woman herself willing to give up her virtue

On what absurd subject could my poem be ranked?

…when I simply want to Thank the un-Thanked.

–         The grey walls that I recall

–         The greatest friends I’ve made

–         The place where I learnt my prayers

–         And also to tie a shoe lace

–         The stories that you and I can share

–         -the place where I learnt to love and care

–         The unthanked walls still there…………….

XO Regina.