Rhythms Of Life Poem by Praveen Kumar In Shobha Priya

Wherever be imbalance,
There is nature's dance
Of emotions, evolution and emergence
Of new heights and new horizons.


Wherever be cravings,
There are strivings
To reach higher and wider
And reap nature's fuller subtleties.


Perfection is stillness,
Distance brings motion
That strains strength to pleasant fatigue
With sweet hopes of fresh blooms.


Contentment is quietus,
Discontent is life
That draws being out of shell
To drown in nature's limitless treasures.


Disturbance is sunrise,
Calm peace is sunset;
While one leads to brightness,
The other broods to quite sleep.


Fullness is open sky,
Reachless and characterless;
No shape and shade to stir,
No cloud, no warm breeze to stir.


Spotless white and straight?
It is tasteless twilight;
No warmth, no chill, no smile, no wrath,
No hooks, no crooks, no lively twists.


No urge, no thrust,
No relief of release?
Life is dull, heavy, painful tedium,
A repeat run on a forfairn course.


Nothing it holds?
Nothing it moulds;
Like a layer of sand on a seabed,
It lives itself for existence's sake.


Contentment's thick hide
Hides inner world
From the joys of tumultuous growth
And uncertainties that brighten the life.


The rhythms of life,
The musics of nature,
Shut to the shell of dunny self
That dwells itself in perfectitude.


No dim and dip,
No shocks of sparks,
No maddening dance, no joyous whirls,
But a constant glimmer of dull twilight.


It is neither left,
Nor ever be right;
But algate straight on its path
In a saturnine lightless brood.


Give it some strains,
Bring some features;
Break the white brood of perfectitude,
Drive a hole to let some light inside.


Give twists to straight lines
To create new shapes; .
Guide life through the joy of shocks
Of the nature's strange fitful dance.


Stir the inner pendulum
To pace with time
Along the infinite cosmic clock
With shocks and thrills all along.


Rise and fall is joy,
Light and shade is beauty,
Uncertainties bring hope,
Change infuses health and strength.


Perfection is imperfect,
Imperfection, perfect;
This is how the world is trapped,
This is how life is warped.


Curvatures deviate algate,
It move and meet somewhere,
While in ceaseless isolation run
The lines, straight and featureless.


Incompleteness invites,
Completeness withdraws;
Incompleteness attracts
While completeness cools all warmth.


Imbalance brings beauty,
Imbalance brings taste;
Imbalance gives life strength and form,
Imbalance moves algate to a goal.


It be music or dance,
The nature or an artists piece,
Imbalance always sits in womb
To stir passions to artistic mood.


Craving is beauty,
Striving is art;
No beauty or joy lies in fullness,
No dream ever stir in completeness.


No day, without night;
No dream, without desires;
Life is an urge of upward surge,
No rise, if no dip to imperfectitude.


Uncertainty is god,
Uncertainty is youth,
Certainty brings cold old age,
The plateau that falls to desuetude.