Winter Is Cold Poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Books in volumes are still unread;
Movies in reams are still unseen;
Places in tones are there un-trodden.
What, if I miss like one? Resigned.

People sought after are left behind;
Women won over are comets burnt;
Things got with a crush are snake-skin casts.
What, if I leave like one? Resigned.

Knowledge bought and got went to rust;
Skills learnt and stored are mere waste;
Goodwill sown and grown were left behind.
What, if I skip like one? Resigned.

Desires recede; no hunger stays.
Value retreats; no regret rests.
‘I count’ tires; depression dies.
Obsession-less is blissfulness.

With greed at naught, no appeasement;
With needs at ebbs, no need to beg;
All seem alike, I take no side.
Obligation-less is bliss state

Once calves bullied; now I dare bulls.
Beggars were seers, seers now beggars.
Stones then were gods; now gods seem stones.
Fear shedding is happiness.

Craving for the best, seeking the high
And searching for identity
Turn puppet plays to my stale eyes.
Disillusioned, I am cheerful.

Parents are gone; heart’s seasoned.
Siblings are left; heart’s hardened.
Children have left; heart’s frozen.
Detachment assures blissfulness.

Leaves in autumn shed without pain;
Lives, the leaves, must shed in autumn,
When they turn green-less and wet-less.
Unshed leaves are unwanted guests.

Seasons are to everything;
Time is there to everything.
Be ready to leave in autumn,
By when turn green-less and wet-less.

To live in winter
Is to pass through hell.
23.03.06