Whispers of Immortality

I have been lost since long,
trying to find my voice.
Caught between right and wrong.
Wondering if I had a choice !

Weaving dreams in darkness;
Alone, I was too silent.
None to fight in my loneliness,
it made me sharply violent.

My voice lost,
returned briefly in my words.
At a great cost,
I learned to fly like the birds.

Accustomed to suffering,
my adventures led me too far.
I didn’t know what I was becoming,
slowly, deep within I waged a war.

Been trying to find my voice,
drowned beneath the voices.
Been trying to make that choice,
found between the two choices.

I have bartered my emotions,
for experiences of suffering.
As a dried branch finally snaps
in a torrent of wuthering.

Chasing dreams in darkness,
I knew I had to stumble.
It was when I fell I found,
all my lost voices in a jumble.

Stumbling, falling, failing then rising,
perhaps I will return to normality.
It is the reason why I chose,
to converse in “whispers of immortality.”

– Mayank “Sahar” Mishra

Wait 

Waiting
Seems forever,
When you are waiting.
Every moment frozen,
Not moving.
Every moment feels like,
an uneventful millennia,
when you are waiting.
Patience wears out slowly
thinning every moment,
into an impassable passage
of space and time.

Waiting.
Seems so futile,
when it is finally over.
Shifting of perception.
The long endless wait
which stretched into millennias,
seems like a blink of an eye.
When you aren’t waiting anymore.

Waiting,
It’s pseudo and an illusion.
Just to confuse you,
hidden behind the veil of
an expected event or a person.

Waiting,
makes us wait,
for the inevitable.
So strange that,
while waiting,
we never realise that,
It is just a myth,
a false sense of time.
and that the inevitable
always arrives.

– Mayank “Sahar” Mishra

in the photograph Himanshu Singh, my friend. Photo credits: Sahar
All content is © Mayank “Sahar” Mishra.

Among the Ordinary.

It is interesting to observe,
that the ordinary is so beautiful.
Yet it is always hidden
from our eyes, while we go on
looking around for a better world.
In our minds rests the ground,
where one can grow and nurture,
the forests of happiness.
The rains after years of patience,
shall fall over this forest.
And when the trees grow tall,
their shade will cool your mind.
You will enjoy the fruits of perseverance.
While your time obeys your will,
the wounds you inflicted on
yourself shall heal.
The fresh air will clean away the stale,
the greenery shall sweep aside the pale.
Within these dark woods,
deep within, alight your fire.
And keep the flame burning,
so that one day you can
burn the forest down.
To start anew,
because it is poison to stop.
Or stick to a single perspective,
or come to a halt.
For we must always evolve,
into something better.
But what if we cannot ?
Do not worry then my friend,
as it always takes extra,
to be ordinary and yet,
soar above all the rest,
while you rule your own mind.

– sahar (Mayank Mishra)

Kannappa the Stout Devout

Featured image/artwork borrowed from Google.

Kannappa_nayanar

 

Kannappa – The Stout Devout

 

He became one of the sixty-three

Nayanmars, the stout devouts of Shiva.

A hunter from the banks of Kalahasti,

Kannappa a hunter, a devout, a giver.

 

One day while on his hunt,

he found a stone divine,

put all his faith in it,

leaving everything aside.

 

Kannappa’s God was his friend,

for whom he carried water in his mouth.

And shared what he hunted

with a caring heart.

 

Lord accepted it all,

but one day , to test his faith,

Shook the earth,

the temple collapsing under its weight.

 

When all priests ran out to save their lives,

Kannappa ran for what lay inside,

He covered it with his body,

the falling stones littered aside.

 

One day he saw the lord’s eye bleed,

so he took out his own to fix it.

When the second eye started to bleed,

he marked the bleeding eye with his foot

and set upon pulling out his own.

 

The story goes, he attained nirvana

Stayed in bliss day and night.

Kannappa had met Shiva

and all was now set right.

 

 

 

for knowing the whole episode in detail please visit https://ourdharma.wordpress.com/2009/02/13/203/ .

What I do ?

What I do is,
I step into a stranger’s shoes,
and walk along finding the clues.
I see, I hear and talk like him
I be him, am him, belong to him.
He may be painter, a soldier or a killer,
I have been both pious and sinner.
I see through your eye,
The same ground the same sky.
But wrought with perceptions of my own,
Things I see, to you I have shown.
Strung in the harmony of words,
I will narrate you the chirping of birds
Like crackling of galaxies, a herd of herds.
Drop the honeyed sun in the ocean
Or set upon entire worlds in motion.

What I do,
Is I speak a language,
of a universal syntax.
Please do correct me if I am lax,
I do not mean to impose,
I just don’t talk in prose.
If you are looking for patterns,
You won’t find any.
There is not one but one too many.
I simply plough in the mind field,
some times sowing ,others slashing.
Seeds in the corners of the unknown minds.
Shall they grow up to be a labyrinth ?
Or remain just seeds.
How much of what I say is true ?
It is all up to you.

What I do is,
I reflect you in my lines.
Read your life in between them,
In one I have lived many lives.
I like to shuffle between them.
Moving between you I study you.
Unknown, I live among you.
Long after I am gone and my bones are interred.
My verses shall be read, my songs sung, my poetry heard.
I shine in your dreamy eyes.
I reveal the truth behind your lies.
What I do is I read, not books.
But smile,frowns,faces and looks.

What I do is,
I bend the rules.
Even make them break them.
Sometimes I have to remake them.
My characters are real,
the scenes and my experiences.
The sights are really surreal.
A lot of wrong turns, not mere events.
In the pitch dark night.
I will describe the light
For you I will shine bright.
Is what I do !

– sahar

the featured picture is a copyright of ©Prabal Pandey , a professional photographer and traveller. you can see his photo album at https://m.flickr.com/#/photos/prabalpandey/