ROOTS

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You’ve planted your roots under the humid sun,

pushing the earthen ground of filial obedience,

to find the water of appreciation and peace,

seeking the nutrients of innate contentment.

 

But you have been uprooted too often,

that your body is torn and bloodied, 

with the sins of your past,

with the karmas of your future.

 

You realise you only have the strength,

to gain stability in the concrete homes,

of those that never had the heart,

to give you loyalty in the first place.

 

Shiver at the ironic natures of this world!

 

The roots that you buried,

have been left to wither and die,

under the humid sun and the breezy winds,

the memories; the laugher.

 

Your living soul Is nothing but a distant past of a life once lived and mourned.

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WHEN WILL I SETTLE…

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Like withered leaves,
frolicking to autumn’s eddying air,
I’ll never know,
when will I settle,
satisfy the needs of innate contentment,
accept that the established sentiment,
of yesteryear’s regrets and dispositions,
were brewed; resonance of seasons,
of torment and wholesome blues,
the despair of crouching in broken homes,
lined with vines of toughened roots,
of darkened esteems and confidence,
to approach life.

When will I settle,
heal the chasms of neurotic inanities,
reject the weakened foundations of these paper towns,
glorified by the insatiable greed of paper people,
making cutout love in flimsy suburbia,
that failed to quench the pleas of adam-kind,
to erase the mistake,
of star-crossed sins and entwined hues;
the longing for better times,
to approach life.

SANKARA SANYASI

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“I stumbled across a sanyasi, grown of pious roots

Who brought the figs, the mangroves and the monsoons

Under the pinkish hues and the weeping dews,

The twilight parted, like love’s last adieu.

A murrain of bones, bathed in dawn’s pallor

Spoke scriptures in prose, to women of Valour

Meditating on the aging leaves of weeping willows,

Half buried a shattered urn lies, where the wind blows

Wrinkled lips begot passions of the divine earth,

Bloods that well flaked lacquer and wines of stifled mirth”