Life Is An Unbearable Pain Poem by Prabir Gayen

Life is an unbearable Pain

When life is on the western sky,
Breath with suspended calmness,
Every small thing appears to be calling,
The call from the unknown shore,
A tiny bloom and the mighty Sun shine
with same breath and breadth,
Night is a lawn of scary ghost,
The past is like a hanging pain,
Gravel and Gem reflect same glory,
On the way comes the cherished
Contents.

When mind is shifting to no-mind,
Heart throbbing through penance,
Love is halted to flow with the flow,
Everything reduces to nothing,
Life is a waiting in the wings,
a pilgrimage,
Every familiar face is like a bubble,
Every moment of joy bears
some aura of sadness,
Spring, winter or summer regress
to same songless Autumn,
Life is an uncertain wind,
Convolution of sunder quern,
Light from the beyond flickers
in some lonesome moments of
Cold-eyed solitude.

When things are on the way,
The forgotten past is like
the song sung with the Lee of
fanciful delight,
The rush hour of life is to be settled
with magnanimous dream of fulfilment,
Walking with apparent Joy of living,
Childhood dream is like a bubble
gleaming with the grace of vigorous
retirement and peace,
The breath full and sedate with
Terrene Easement,
The blue sky with immortal annulment,
Life begins to move by background motion,
How sterling it would be!
to the great astonishment of logical mind.

Tearing the chest of keyed quitch,
You came to my heart brisk and quick,
With the grace of South wind
You put your feet on my guiltless spirit,
Sitting on the lawn of mind,
Warm with the increasing fall of
seasonal shower with occasional drift
of thunderstorms and lightning,
the whisper of inward pain with the chanting
of your name,
Like the worshipper of a divine
Joy,
And eyes wild with stormy night,
in my quivering lips,
My heart speaks with incoherent rhyme,
Love! oh the spirit of love!
Life is a fleeting gush of air,
Full of existential bliss and
Stupendous pain to bear with Joy.

Every moment is a change,
New is never new and old is never
Old,
Between the change and beyond,
Somewhere in the shrine of self,
Or the pathway leading to the far end,
Where all the roads meet and
All the wayfarers strain with the
Pious rubric of spiritual pilgrimage,
The sun rises and sets,
The shadow falls with glistering
glory with the song of life with glee and grief,
Past is only the image of pain unbearable
in the light and shade of reflecting Mind.

The sun has set long ago,
The night is dreary with deep silence,
Old familiar faces are void,
telling me the way is weary and
Nothing to worry to attain anything in life,
Life is a twilight in the field of dream,
All around only the dream,
The stream of consciousness,
To experience excruciating pain,
Death as the substratum
is the only truth to enable us
to touch the screen of life,
A vanishing point of thought,
The cognition of timeless beauty,
New as the outgrown of past with
no Continuance of heedful link,
Present is ever present with no invention
of the world of new thought and reason,
Only pain and pain with no potion
Is the way to say bye to fanciful delight,
The world inner or outer is simply
a bubble that wraps our Swerving
Passion with the increasing stream of compassion,
No way to look backward and forward,
No movement at all,
Only to wait with waiting pain
to be able to die, to be lost,
without and within, in the eternal stream of Nothing.
*****
@prabir Gayen/18/02/2020/4: 01PM.