Senseless to Be in Senses

You see around many things, you concurred and fabricated and take part, you hurt, making you both helpless and sad. And happy and hopeful. You have the sense to feel all these. But when you are separated from your senses you feel nothing, it’s ecstasy and just a fantasy of illusionist life.

  

The senselessness of being

Fills heaven with rainbows.

Everything is you; a life and the universe.

You will shout, sing and dance,

In the space, you occupy.

Now, be in sense, eyes wide open;

Feels the darkness and light,

Sunshine and harsh wind.

Trails of soft, iron trails,

Each denuding life.

These are invisible threads en route to

the common destination: the grave.

Books are bound, framed and forced,

Weeping, smiling they are taught naught.

Perfection and decency are treasures,

Things forgotten and unlearned.

Aging, we grow experienced, then what?

We’re pulled down to the grave.

The Canned Dream

People care about the fruits, not how a tree is nurtured and taken care (I wrote a similar topic in this blog called ‘The Roots of a Seed’)

What do you feel when the most expected fruit comes as a disaster? Or worse, even so, axing the whole tree, or rooting out the tree from the soil.

The hope of life is the root and if the root is rooted out, there is no hopeless hope than this. Likewise, for someone, the most desirable thing in life comes as what many friends called as ‘killing the life,’ ‘demoting the life,’ ‘what is these?’ all blames, blames and more blames; blames to your life, blames to the people around you, blames to God!

A few of my friends time and again blurted out often, “I know everything, but what’s wrong with this result?” It’s like saying, ‘life is empty, but what’s this suffering?’ It’s almost time to complete courses, and for many dreamers, the end of the course will be the end of their lofty dreams. Not so. Never end. I tell myself, always. My house owner was once a rickshaw puller. He narrated it to me. Now he has twenty-seven buildings of his own. He eats gold, I think. No one can say life. Just dream and relax, and jump and hold tight when that dream knocks at the door. But my door always remains open to welcome dreams. I hope I have not missed the dream. Sometimes, the future, which seems illusory and out of reach, does not concern me at all.

Anyways, I mock those ‘canned dreamers’ and think to myself, ‘Nobody knows everything, only God knows.’ But deep in the heart, I ask many times, that how unequal is it, that God doesn’t know some people, (those people who deserve) but there is always ‘BUT’ in life. Why so contrast and comparison in this life. God is the one, say politicians. But if you ask any layman, he/she would say their god is the best, meaning others are false. That is a huge debate and to answer for an unseen thing like the god. I give up.

But, everything is unequal, and let me leave with George Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’ book, “All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.”