Liberation

Liberation is the realisation of awareness, achievement of oneness with the Divine. Each and every living being has to attain this consummation, this goal, the Brahman. That is its true destination. Some day or the other, the urge to win release from the shackles of grief and joy, and the bonds of "I" and "mine" will awaken and emerge. The path that is taken then inevitably leads to freedom (Moksha). Seeking that path is the sign of the intelligent person. Instead of this search, when one considers the objective world as all-important and feels drawn toward its charm, life is barren and is of no consequence.

- Sai Baba

The Greatest Hazard

To laugh is to risk appearing a fool.
To try is to risk failure.
To dream is to risk disappointment.

To expose feeling is to risk rejection.

To love is to risk not being loved in return.

But risks must be taken, because the person who

risks nothing, does nothing, will gain nothing.

He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he will

not learn, feel, change, grow, or love.

The greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

For No One, But You

The night steals past stealthily.
The clock moves its hands furtively around, 
chancing glances at me with every second.
It knows that to me, the night is day. The hours,
accounted for in my head.

She’s on my mind.
All those miles away. And she knows it.
When I will see her, I do not know.
All that matters for now, is this very moment.
She is right here. 
A part of my night, a part of her day.
A part of my imagination and a part of her play.

Till the dawn, I will wake,
fixated on you.
Not much else on this mind,
that shares a prayer for you.

One day it will make sense,
these moments we yearn.
For something, or someone,
over distance and churn.
Deep down, my sweets,
you know this is true.
Your laughter is all that I care to hold true.

 

A thought

The rhythm of the city, an emotionless machine, manufacturing reality, shiny but unclean. built on sand and fantasy, mirror of mirage, reflected on the silver screen and the chrome in the garage. Vision blinded by concrete, callused hearts enclosed, deafened by the drum beat, tongues too seared to taste. Masked by the drone of engines and chatter of the street, the still small voice is buried and the footpath isn’t seen.

Images and idols technologically devised, words of cotton candy dissolve before your eyes, intellect and science worshipped by decree, giving credit to illusion so the chained believe they are free. Fundamental skeletons in self appointed roles, clothed in robes of office but carnivorous of souls, speaking words that come from knowledge but do not come from light, letters leading spirit, adding darkness to the night.