The agony of it!
Looking at it
life is a balance sheet,
it might be said,
with credits and debits—
good ‘n’ bad thoughts
pleasure ‘n’ pain
selfish and unselfish acts.
These are born of self,
it’s said,
there’s a day of reckoning
a day of judgement, they say
as you stand before the Supreme.
Another says
this self is of itself
the cause and the result
the one leading to the other
and
the other leading to the one—
a never-ending churning
and silence.
Oh why these credits and debits?
You’re born,
you succumb
you die;
this cycle is for ever, it’s said.
Why must life be
a balance sheet?
Why should good overcome evil?
Why have a balance sheet
why blank it
why go on and on,
for ageless ages
kalpa after kalpa
oh, why?
No wisdom has the answer
Can there be a question
without an answer?
Apparently
there is.
______________________________________________________________________
(dis)illusion
If my soul is only a part
my consciousness only a division
and there’s a corresponding whole,
why is the part apart?
why did the division come to be?
And if the part being apart
is only an illusion
why is this illusion?
If I act wisely
the credit is yours
If I act stupidly
the blame is yours, too,
you say.
If credit and blame are yours
if you are wisdom and stupidity
why is this
illusory reality?
If you are I
what am I?
If I am not I
why am I?
If this ‘i’ moves
at your pleasure
(as they say)
why move it so?
‘yugam’ after ‘yugam’
Why is this birth and death
Is there a ‘different’ quest
For how long is this quest
Is there a ‘different’ thirst
for how long is this thirst
for how long is this churning
how long how long…
Who is there yonder
who is here near
to tell…
One practised and said:
‘Love and surrender’
One preached and practised
reformation and renaissance
One declared and thumbed:
‘O captive, seek release’
Yet no one is saying
why this quest, thirst, churning?
Life
Under the greenwood tree we sit and muse
over ideas, values, emotions that confuse
straining our wits to reach a solution
but to no consequence. No philosophy, no
religion
has found an answer to the eternal
question;
with all the reasoning, the intellect in
his possession,
man is yet to solve this puzzling riddle;
it seems it’s been a vain attempt though
noble;
sure, there’ve been thinkers great
the question’s there unsolved but.
Will man ever succeed in his venture?
There’s nothing else but to surrender;
Life’s been a puzzle and will ever remain
so.
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