A Quest on Overdrive … :)

An eccentric rambler on life's lessons and mercies, found and lost… :)


Eternally Timeless

I shall ever be The Outsider.
Looking on, Looking within.
Never to come home.
Never to slip into the warmth
Unaffected, blissfully blithe, bold.
Never to loudly claim possession.
Or gleefully discard with shouts of laughter.

For I may be sure of You, and Me
Us, for sure!
But not the vagrant devil, Time.
How it plays, teases, promises
And then shatters.

Into the space of being-
Of the breath indrawn
Are the million shards of emptiness…
Sent out by time, to hurt into awareness-
The knowledge that I have grown out.
Out, of myself-
To have lost myself.
In time.

9 February, 2010



The knife twists in the wound
As I sit and watch

The pen scratches on paper
And I still feel inexperienced.




He came with the dawn,
Early morning mist-
A hazy form:
vague nothingness,
slowly taking shape!

My long night was
nearing light-
I knew, the sun
was just behind him.

Trapped in my darkness
I could do nothing,
but wait…
Endlessly, it seemed.

I wondered.
Did he know?
Was that why he came?

And I waited.

why, suddenly, the steps
seemed unsure

And the mist grew thick!

Still trapped in
my darkness
I knew
I would have to burn-
so that he could see light,
and part the mist again.

Only, I hope, he will forgive me
for being formless,
when he finally gets here.

5 June, ’07


A Realization!

When silence speaks
A thousand tongues,
My words can speak
But one.

And though my heart can
sense Eternity,
Beating in tandem
with yours-
Why do my eyes seek
And probe
And question?

The Language of Love
Perhaps, is one
I need to understand;

And Still shall I be
I know, when I
Permeate and flow
As water-
As Life.
When I meet you
Where you have always been.

In me.

18 February, ’08




So why does the silk worm spin
Yarns of purity in lustrous strands?
The sole purpose of its existence-
Oozing itself out,
Not for itself, but Never!

Only to serve a higher purpose
At the cost of its own self.

The blade of grass-
That sustains the food chain.

The Ants, zealous, uncomplaining
Disciplined, unquestioning;

Nature and the Lord’s many creations,
Except, perhaps, man.

Look around, dear Child:

Do they ask,

Why me?

10 March, 2008