Destiny

The ink is red
In destiny's book
It tells us things
And we'd rather not look

Deeds to be done
Words to be said
Wonder if they will be
Just as we dread

We gain to lose
When we could lose to gain
So put our heads on ice
Let go of this vise
And this grip of belief

Will we love our Life
When She chooses to desert us
Standing at the threshold
She looks a little cautious

With all our trappings and baggage
She strips from us our pride
And she turns to the other side
And if we accept and accede
Bow down and vanish already
These things we fear
Wouldn't seem so dreary

----Megha (02/29/08)

I hate it when it takes me forever to finish a poem. I never stop thinking about it. The words keep turning in my head back and forth adjectives mixed up and I'm never sure where I'm going or when it will end. Many times I start on one topic and the words seem to take a life of their own and weave something quite different. I leaves me...dissatisfied, to say the least. The epiphany of having found something or learnt an important concept about life ( or what ever it is I'm trying to learn about), it never comes.
Ironically this is when my brain is thinking and my heart has given up.

Mindful?

Easy, Unfeeling, Dead,
Mindless
Without teacher or guide
Awareness is rare.
Yet, when I ask
I am answered and I receive
To open my heart
Be fearless
Know compassion
Oh but to keep from hurt also
Watch as it swells
In its joys and delights
And shrivels in anger and misery
How quickly this wretched mind
It barges in
And tramples what little
In my garden grew

Must this ship be tossed and turned
With every beat it begs be returned
Wishes this mind withdrew
Ashore perhaps
or into the profound and tranquil blue
----Megha (02/20/08)

I feel like a poem named "Perhaps" sounds so cliche'd. But I could not think of a better word. Also, I feel like I've heard some of the lines before. But I might just be dreaming.

So Perhaps
Perhaps it is not love I know.
For on a bed of pins,
My wounded heart you stow.
Perhaps it is not meant to be.
But I believe,
Love (Man) is beyond destiny.

So in spite of all that was,
In our own separate lives,
Separate paths we chose

So perhaps we will be lovers
Or perhaps be friends.
And perhaps, I will see you someday again.
Or maybe I will walk
Away from you today
And this will be the beginning of the end
----Megha (02/05/08)

For sorrow that lies beyond tears.

Still
I cry not for your father or brothers
For they still have your life in them
I cry in hope that you may be fulfilled.
Be happy.

Even though I may not be perfect,
Here, hold my heart and feel content

I know that souls live their own life paths.
And there is nothing I can do about yours now.
But I wish I had tried. I wish I had known.
Hold my heart now in your cold hands and
In the stillness feel the warmth.
----Megha (02/01/08)