The ashes are so plentiful they fill the earth and sky,
I cannot reach the surface, though I try and try and try,
Oh, how I wish to travel back and choose another door,
But I can only look ahead and see the things in store.

The past was dark and dreary and the future is the same,
I try to point at others, but there’s only me to blame,
I wouldn’t stop to listen when they told me I was wrong,
So now I’m sifting ashes as I listen to their song.

My life is full of ashes of the future and the past,
And though I try to brush them off, I know the die is cast,
Although the Phoenix rises, it will never rise for me,
I’ll be the person who I was and who I’ll always be.

Then one day as I leave this life and ashes I become,
I’ll float up to the heavens and I’ll block the light of sun,
Then all will know the way it was, and for eternity,
I’ll pay for all my actions, buried deep in ash debris.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Sifting Ashes.

…

Does anything in this earth, ever perish?
And disappear into nothingness and void?
A leaf, a life, a flower, a song, a rainbow!

A tree, a leaf, or a flower, when it withers
The good earth receives it with pleasure.
It dissolves with the mud, in its source.
The roots take away the substances,
And bring them back to life.
The remnants of a human being disintegrate and
Unite with the five elements which composed it.

The whole earth is a grand grave yard,
For withered, battered, and dead lives;
Buried and hidden in its cavernous womb;
Over millenniums, ever procreating
From the debris of accumulated fragments,
In another shape; tubers, cereals, fruits, crops,
And food for whatever we eat as flesh,
To complete the cycle of life, in the universe.
Even the scattered ash over water
Comes back as salt from the sea in our food.

Nothing can be severed from anything eternally.
That proclivity exists in everything, animate or
Inanimate, similar to proton-neutron relation.
That is human bondage, nature’s bondage

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Conservation…..

Playing a game in the squash court,

With rebounding emotions of the heart

As the soft ball, till it bleeds and withers

And the opponent decorating his lips with

A deceptive smile and the gait of a winner,

Walks away and you’™re left alone!

The rules were fair, the play a barbarity

Savage words and bitter strokes

Yet I yielded to the whims and fancies of

Outrages vociferations which led to crucification,

And vituperations of schizophrenia,

Which I meekly admitted, as if I played a foul game;

As he was my best and unique pal and

I never wanted to lose him forever

The mind always search in unknown shores, and

Far away regions to discern a lost companion,

Missed en-route through your past rebirths..

Every moment the wind writes memoirs on the sand

And wander away, the waves blot it out

The next instant, ruthlessly with a cruel mind.

Calm sometimes, rebellious another time,

Turbulent at times, agitated, and weeping in grief

With suppressed mysteries of desires.

Yet, the fisherman adores its nature

And cling to her bosom, as of his mother

Every man is an ocean, ever on the lookout in debris

For lost treasures and possessions withered from his heart

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Game of the heart.