Poetry and prose from the heart. · Stories to ponder.

“The Winged Spirit.”

“Poetry comes from the highest happiness or the deepest sorrow.”  ~ A. P. J. Abdul Kalam; Indian president, scientist, and engineer.


The Winged Spirit

Times of grief and deep misery

Of dark days in past history,

Jackals and wolves ruled the night,

Wicked men of pain were the sight,

Streets of great pestilence and crimes,

Taxes, debts, of people suffering times;

Hate and fear were the ones in power,

Love and peace did not exist, nor the flower.

Broken I felt my heart in those moments,

My thoughts were miserable torments;

My abode, my wife and children were gone,

Light had left me and to dark I was drawn,

My dreams had fallen into the obscure abyss

Where I could not reach and there was no bliss.

I walked the path of no return one night of fate,

Of death I saw shadows summoning the gate;

Then the path was illumined at far sight on end,

Fear held me at first but then it became a friend,

There was an explosion of light which I did endure,

The love expanded, the warm peace was most pure,

I realized something extremely bizarre and out of place,

Time had vanished, I was within no common space,

Bubbles and ripples were all about my formless essence,

My mind sensed deeply the wonderful quintessence.

Then there was deeper realization and I came to see,

I had died in pain but was now reborn in profound glee,

The Winged Spirit in the midst of pain and turmoil,

Ready to advocate truth and all men’s suffering foil.

My losses were then met with wisdom and true heart,

My fear and anger, misery and frustration had part.

 

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The game

Illusions are about us and all the time emerging,
Thought-forms and mediocre ideas without purging,
Men and women experience ambition in the mind,
They constantly plot all selfishness most blind.

Regarded I the coin of all treasure, the shiny thing,
I labored constantly like a puppet on a string,
Hurt was disguised as purpose, love was not there,
Misery was disguised as passion, stress I couldn’t bear.

Fleeting pleasures, incoming pain, I lived confused,
Society’s schemes, man of ignorance, I was used;
There was a brilliant light I couldn’t see at first,
Madness possessed my form, beyond cursed.

Love had been my savior then and it took time
To stop all anxiety and experience The Sublime,
For I elevated to the paradise of mental peace,
Because she found me the illusion did cease.

Realized then I was the pawn of the crude,
As the servant to the rich and powerful glued;
One lives as a puppet every day of his life,
I had awakened, cut the cord with a knife.

The game is thought by the ignorance of humanity,
Everybody desires happiness but cannot see vanity;
Love is the answer and the deepest connection,
Of the poisonous illness in life is the grand injection.

 

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