1
Meandering inside the confines of my solitude
I asked the forest, which tree is your boundary?
The trees shrugged and told me;
We are real, but the forest is in your dreams.
Crushing under the garland of a life threaded on desires
I asked the toddler how you play with angels and chat with stars?
Little one cooed, the weight of your dead knowledge makes you heavy
I play in my ignorant bliss in the palm of God.
With my head splitting in the confused balance sheet of life
I asked the seagull what makes you fly free of worries?
The bird replied, I flap my wings only in the freedom of present
And don’t care about the rest.
2
What makes the gospels, dear to millions?
While my poems are trashed, in the bins of time.
The energy of love cuddled in those words and
The darkness of my ego knitting those lines.
Fed up with traveling in the linear time of past to future
Wandering aimlessly in forests of forms and names
Bored with unraveling chains of cause and effect
I long to be freed into Your meadows of timeless space.
Where is the edge of reductionistic space and time
A point of mathematical singularity
From where I can jump, into eternity
And float in Your great void.
The great void of dynamic emptiness
The holistic energy of a nascent universe.
To join Thy kingdom
Where You trade happiness in the markets of silence
Barter love in the battlefields of death
Drop a gem of hope in the urns of history
For me to look forward to; to live.
Another excellent thoughtful write Raghavan, full to bursting with ideas and whimsy. You notion of heaven is beguiling.
Loved this one.... especially these lines 'Little one cooed, the weight of your dead knowledge makes you heavy, I play in my ignorant bliss in the palm of God.' I hope we get more of your poems to read..... love & regards Tara
this is a excellent poem, Raghavan... i am adding it to my favorites... i love the stanza- 'What makes the gospels, dear to millions? /While my poems are trashed, in the bins of time./The energy of love cuddled in those words and/ The darkness of my ego knitting those lines.' regards, Asma...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very philosophical poem made beautiful with your words...