A Sepia Splendour

This gifted picture must haven been taken by Acha Dolma la on a fine crisp evening from Dhasa upper TCV Home # 3, the moment caught in time with precision. A sun set splendor I like for its aesthetic values spared in such gorgeous way by our Mother Nature, free of charge if one has time to take in its medium..........we are still together on this life-supporting planet under the same azure sky--then think we are blessed! 


A lofty goal I haven't;
A grandiose plan I can't devise;
To sense a true beauty I deserve
To maintain this dainty-emotion fervent. 

A Lumbering Soul

A small whirlwind skirts along,

The wreathing crisp-brown leaves rustle,

The spiral of its upward rotating current navigates,

This soul lumbers not to miss the navigation...

An itinerary free of charge around by air—

Wherever wishfully destined for with this air-body.

Passing through solidity like a curtain of fog,

I see at a glance how ill-destined this world is:

Embedded in the quagmire of ill-activities,

A single mature motive hard among 1000 mobile…

And the pains scattered, more in Haiti now—

Still we produce to suffer as of this myopia inclined.

A Charade

Lost or gone the traces still conspicuous…

To masquerade as what I’m not the then

I find at my wit’s end—

The mortal combat on the brink of a sad defeat.

Stand on, I try rather hopelessly

The sown impression seed so robustly vibrant—

I tangle with blindly teetering and sliding.

Yet another dawn, I muse, there should be

Where this huge aggregate of consciousness blotted out.

A Stampede

A stampede, a rush,

A blanket of dust wreathes around;

A vortex of movements in chase—

Advance ahead or lag behind in its vibrant current.

A jostle, a hustle,

A trudging figure jolted loose;

A lost soul galvanized into mad dances—

Keep distance or you’r adrift in its wild movement.

Confession

A consciousness palled,

A pair of withered feet plod on…

Driven by the heavy but bloated heart adrift—

Am I meant for so…?

The grandiose approach,

The mishandled pain ensued.

Destined but still through a scrimmage—

A dawn of hope stretched afar the horizon blurring.

A dogged silly heart it’s,

Still moving amid double more pains—

Numbed or crazed…a clear vision lost.

Then how there can be such as…

Oh, I see, mine is a lagging sort,

I yet carry on—a caring sense lost,

But only with this blind emotion,

So vague—I cry for a mercy!

Yes, yes, I confess the core point:

Fated and qualified it isn’t;

The strong sense unblended, redundant—

So pathetic I find it myself but cuffed unmovable.

A shower of mercy I seek not now;

Let it take what it deserves by!

A veil of haze falls to lock it further into captivity;

I should learn to like claustrophobia.

Satanic Consciousness

Wake up, you fool!
Oh, think not I’m a log;
I am awake now, only now.
See the tag: Brazen

But am I as branded?
Over, I’m late now.
A stain, stigma attached
But the cunningness escaped.

A clear mind sullied,
A right motivation perverted,
A sense of love spoilt,
The precision passed.

A wagging wolf approached,
An amenable prey subdued—
What’s left, an inflated heart,
Gliding over the maze passed.

Oh, you fool!
Spare not your heart that blindly,
The countenance can be moulded;
A satanic mind has been at works within.
Now, I see the inner curves, so pathetic, so ordinary.

This piece shouldn't be mistaken as what I hold deep down for Y, who I take as the beacon, hope and warmth of my poor bleached heart. It's for the other one who came to me like a satan in disguise, but, unfortunately, at the same time to reveal the evil magic of her fawning cunningness. But I am, by the grace of Triple Gems, resilient and haven't fallen in the abyss of self-torment. Thanks!

Ubiquitous Paleness

However dense the flurries I trudge through—
Muddled headed no place for fixation—
I grip on to it—the firmness I should prove—,
Facing pale, paler to desolate greyness everywhere.

Why even thou, the full moon last night,
Spotted that pale, morosely tarnished, upon me.
Standing and staring at from the narrow front yard,
I saw you cared for me, my friend!

And the stark naked neem tree beside,
The wilted torso and branches, sparse limp leaves,
Joined me too having nothing to hide its emotions;
An artistic view it created with the gleaming moon after all.

Yes, the depth of it I should reach,
The proof being spontaneously true I should find,
But not to show off: To simulate it is to fool myself.
This firmness, even if invalid, should stand trial along the time.