Author: Taruna

Night Beauty

Bright beauty
Of the night sky
Waxing and waning
Sickle like or full
Applauded and acclaimed
Yet you remain
Most egolessly
Humble and servant
To your Sun
You teach me
To see
You and I
Are the same
Reflections of the Almighty
Vessels of the Great
You accept
Your position
Your role
Your rotation
Yet I struggle
In my place
In myself
And my time
Watching your grandeur
On nights of your fullness
You leave me with patience
For dreams of fruition
When through me
There’ll be shine
Perhaps just as much
As to light
A few dark corners
In a mind or a heart
But even more so
To give myself
The chance to acknowledge
The One that chooses me
And bestows the life light force
One breath at a time

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas

Sisters, brothers
Not if one mother
But of Mother Earth

Perhaps near
Or may be far
Thinking of you all

Christmas brings to light
All present
All lost

So hold back
Not the joys
Nor sorrows

As we carry
Memories
Aspirations
Even our misfortunes

My gift to you all
The reminder
To focus

On the present
Whether wrapped
Of not

So that you may
Live
And not merely
Pass
Through this life.

Merry Christmas
My siblings
Be you
Near or far.

Coming Home

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Sitting on a bench
Sharing our stories of
George Eliot
The pen named writer
The high school we all attended
The hospital where you were born
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives

Sitting on a bench
Sharing our stories of
Riversley Road park
With the parading peacock
The pristine bowling green
The wading pool and bandstand
And of course the Museum
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives

Sitting on bench

Sharing our stories

Outside
Abbey Theater
With new friends in times of need
Old ones re-acquainted
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives

All these memories were fortunately made
So stories now can be re-told
And I can still cherish you
No matter how quickly
The two years have flown by

Staples of Life


Photo by Max Malloy, curtesy of Pinterest.

Staples of Life

Food?
Water?
Light?

For the warrior of old
Chia was his sustenance
Now with innumerable grains
Some so old like amaranth, unknown

For the arid desert nomad
A palm on the horizon, a vision of hope
Now water, flat or sparkling
And in any flavor sought

The shepherd into his night
Lead by the galaxy of stars
Today with the neon lit skies
Some have lost the savoring of dawn

So what now remains
As the staples of life?
What is it, without which
We cannot survive!

Conditioned to strive
For fame and fortune
Placing prosperity before responsibility
Lost is man

In the battle
The mirage
The day’s toil
Leaders, soldiers, all men
Muddle in circles

The greatest of misfortunes
Has befallen mankind
For he has no answer
To what sustains his own life!

At times, man is forced to face
His dichotomous humanity
For some a choice
For most not

When stripped naked
Of the labels, the roles
The doing and undoings
The staples of life
Emerge from the core

Humility or pomposity
Vulnerability or defensiveness
Compassion or suppression
Gratitude or greed

Wait not for the unraveling of your life
Embrace your core
And claim
The grandest of staples
Fit for this life

Simplest of Thanks: Gratitude

At no other time in existence
Has there been a world of such abundance
Where we have them all
Choice, access, immediacy.

So, how hard is it to be grateful?

“You can be anything you want”
“Where there is a will, there is a way”
Philosophy to preachings
Man is the almighty!

So…How hard is it to be grateful?

Gratitude now linked to the tangible
Objects and materials
Acquisitions and conquests
Talent and masteries.

Yet the most sublime features
Sustaining our existence
The true wealth of mankind
Diminished to being taken for granted
Forgotten, dismissed
At best at the bottom of the list.

Requiring ownership and rsponsibility
Value to enable preservation
Is the air we breathe
The ground that hold us
This planet we all share.

Perhaps deeper still
The constant repair and re-birth of each living substance
The invisible atomic and cellular exchange
The very life source
Sustaining those things we enjoy.

Yet we abuse, even destroy
These majestic elements
Lost in our ignorance
Our pride, greed
Our righteousness.

Gratitude, I pray
Wake me,
Wake in me
So tomorrow can be
As fruitful as intended
By the Master designer.

 

Original art by Tejal Patel.

Hope Revived

Folded clothes
Untouched trinkets
Made up bed
Empty room.

If facts could speak
They’d affirm
You’ve left a space
And you’re no longer here.

Yet banners posted
Butterflies flutter
Abbey Theater’s a buzz
And your spirit’s a stir.

Your friends, your family
All gather and know
You maybe gone
But your core essence still remains.

Your light, your love
Your hard work, your intentions
Have inspired a start
An effort beyond your ‘Hope’.

Binding our spirits
Our want to be whole
Well-being the focus
And hence we exhibit.

From arts to crafts,
From 2 to 3D
We sing, we dance
We cry, we laugh.

The spirit of a soul
Can speak well after
The vessel is gone,
And you my love
Are as pure as they come.

In your remembrance
We’ve come to know
Love never dies
And Hope will always prevail.

Returning Old Friend

Left guessing each morning
As the night sky lingers,
Sun rising faster elsewhere
You tease your arrival.

Tickling the leaves
At the tips of weighted branches,
Sway is soft, sometimes brisk
Ghost-like you change the air.

Mid morning telling
With full force brightness,
Your are not quite ready
To come and stay.

Waiting for your signs
With warm hues of amber and burnt orange,
The longing deepening
For what only you can deliver.

Trees will be crowned
With jewels to be shed,
Giving comfort
And rustle to my feet.

Fall you arrive
Bringing time to reconnect,
As the hearth becomes
The gathering spot.

Time for reflection
Three quarters in,
The year almost done
What’s happened? what’s yet to be done?

Lists never completed
Bewildering and unforgiving,
Instead let’s give thanks
To each day, each season.

Thank you my old friend
You teach how to shed,
Keep gratitude close
And revive for seasons to come.