The Lifelines I Keep

-

 



In hushed abysses, lifelines rest,
Veiling secrets the soul has pressed.
In shadowed depths where echoes sleep,
I guard the dreams I ache to keep.

My verses murmur through the night,
Concealing truths from tender sight.
Each measured line, a fragile grace,
A fleeting truth I cannot chase.

A silent strength within me lies,
A gentle wound that never dies.
Yet through the stillness, paths appear,
A quiet courage drawing near.

They carry whispers, soft, concealed—
A secret dance the heart revealed.
Each word a shadow, vast and deep,
A vigil over what I keep.

For silence hums a secret song,
A steadfast spirit, fierce and strong.
These lifelines, veiled in shadow’s keep,
Hold every story I dream and weep.

In quiet’s realm, my soul abides,
Where hidden hope and wonder hides.
Their speech is silence—pure, austere—
A tranquil voice that dwells sincere.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Solitary Road

-
Image
  The Solitary Road ****************** I have never walked this winding path before, Nor known what secrets wait on either shore. Before my eyes, the dusty road extends, Into the mist where sight and distance ends. *** Upon the clay, deep footprints mark the ground, Where time keeps watch in silence all around. Before my time, through shadows and through light, Unknown spirits walked into the night. *** Through steep ascents and rocks that bruise the feet, Past rusted iron spikes and blinding heat, I wander slow, with parched and burning lips, As sweat like drink from weary fingers drips. *** So many narrow lanes and shortcuts hide, Yet not a single sign to act as guide. But a weathered stone, worn down by wind and rain, Whispers to me amidst the steady pain: *** "The feet that climbed the mountain's highest peak, Will never fear the valleys, low and bleak." Some paths were paved with glitter, wealth, and praise, Some promised love to brighten weary days. *** Some left th...
Read more

Kingdom

-
Image
She was never a kingdom, yet they called her one. Not because she wore a crown, but because they dreamed of conquest. They traced invisible borders across the landscape of her body, counting her silence as surrender, mistaking her kindness for an open gate. To some, she was fertile land, a field where they hoped to plant their names, their pride, their legacy, believing love was another form of ownership. They built castles out of promises, raised flags stitched with desire, and wrote laws that praised devotion while quietly demanding obedience. They admired her beauty as kings admire a distant country- not for its songs, its rivers, or its people, but for the glory of possessing it. Yet beneath their maps flowed rivers they could not chart, and beneath their footsteps lay mountains that refused to bow. She learned that a heart is not a throne to be occupied, nor a soul a province to be taxed by another's will. So she gathered the names they had carved upon her, washed them away wi...
Read more

Soft Wounds and Silent Mornings

-
Image
  A tapestry of touch, a whispered plea, Where love’s soft wounds bloom, wild and free. Kisses fall like morning dew— Then fade to embers, bittersweet, and new. Whispers drift like summer's breeze, Carrying secrets through rustling trees. Tickles trace a playful art, Laughter echoing deep in the heart. Small pains rise like tiny thorns, Piercing flesh where passion forms. Broken hooks of fleeting grace Leave hollow marks in this tender place. The sound of breath, a rhythmic beat, Brushes close—a whispered sweet. Beads of sweat on skin so fair Gleam with a fire beyond compare. Nerves hum soft in silent tune, As bodies move beneath the moon. Waists swaying in a sacred rite, A dance of love through pulsing night. Fatigue arrives, a breath, a sigh, Still glowing under the starry sky. Then hush—the silence, warm and deep, A vow unspoken, meant to keep. But shame returns, a fleeting spark, A blush that flickers in the dark. Regret takes root like midnight flowers, Opening slow through ac...
Read more

The Heart's True Harvest

-
Image
In toil we find the sweetest gain we seek, The fruits of labor bloom in each small task. A whispered promise, uttered, not for the weak, That deeper treasures lie beyond the mask. So rise, embrace the challenge, make it count! The gold we gather, currency and praise, A swift reward, a prize within our hold. These gifts can pass, through life's unfolding maze, From generous hands, a story to be told. A bonus earned, a favor freely shown, These outward joys may brighten any day, Like seeds that flourish, everywhere they're sown, Then given, shared, along a common way. They lift your spirit, fuel your onward pace! Yet, wisdom whispers softly, not for the meek, Of riches born where spirit truly thrives. The satisfaction that the soul can speak, The quiet courage as the heart revives. The purpose found, when every effort binds, The growth within, a knowing deep and true. This inner harvest, only the toiler finds, A vibrant joy, continually anew. Press on, for glory waits in every st...
Read more

After the Playhouse Fell

-
Image
In the penumbra of a shattered playhouse, I remain, Laughter’s afterimage drifting through migratory sand. I built it from breath and provisional hours- You leaned upon it, measuring its endurance. When it collapsed, you said: this is how dwellings learn.   I gathered warmth in bowls-rice, evening, care. You called it surplus and cleared the floor bare. Memory flared briefly, then receded, Like ink summoned at dawn and promptly unneeded.   I left a girl sleeping in attenuated light. You named it instruction, not neglect, not night. She drowned without witness, without appeal, And you baptized the water, not what it concealed.   I tethered a kite to the clemency of air, Trusted the sky to honor my care. You demonstrated how strings refine into blades, How ascent is indicted for the risk it makes.   Stories once arrived when the dark grew humane. You concluded them early and sealed my brain. Chromatic wings unfurled, almost whole- You audited the fe...
Read more

Dawn of Murukayugam

-
Image
In dawn's embrace, Bharat awakens wide,   Her mountains stand with ancient pride,   Rivers whisper through verdant plains,   A song of life that ever remains.   Beneath the sea’s tranquil, sapphire veil,   Lies Kumarikhandam in silent tale,   A sacred heart concealed below,   Where secrets of the ages flow.   From Sangham chants and wisdom's flame,   The echoes of the old proclaim,   That Muruka’s voice, both fierce and tender,   Will guide us through the dark to render.   He rides the wind with peacock’s plume,   A herald of the spring and gloom,   His spear ignites the spirit’s fire,   Awakening dreams that never tire.   When stars align and time’s anew,   The Murukayugam will break through,   A dawn where truth and love unite,   And hearts ignite in sacred light.   Bharat’s soul, resilie...
Read more

The Scent of Blood on the Bush: A Guardian's Cry

-
Image
This land, my kin, the very breath I draw, A Kaadan's(chieftain's) heart, bound by ancient law. The old ones spoke, their voices in the breeze, Of roots that hold us, deeper than the trees. My people danced, beneath the sun's warm gaze, The drumbeat echoed through our sacred days. We hunted strong, the river's bounty shared, Each creature honored, each life truly cared. This was our world, a harmony profound, Where spirits lingered, on ancestral ground. Then distant ships, like hungry gulls they came, Bringing a smoke that whispered profit's name. They spoke of 'progress,' a word that chilled the bone, And built their towers, on ground that was our own. The forests fell, a mournful, rending sound, As ancient giants crashed upon the ground. Their iron bite, it tore the Earth's soft skin, And poisoned waters, where life had always been. My heart, it weeps, for rivers turned to dust, For hunting grounds, consumed by rust. The animals flee, their...
Read more

The Divine Spectacles – A Vision from Babaji

-
Image
Inspired by the Teachings of Mahavatar Babaji “Truth is simple. It is we who make it complex.” – Mahavatar Babaji Oh soul, awaken — the time is near, To see this world not in doubt or fear. Put on the lens of purest light, And walk with wisdom through the night. Everyone must wear the inner sight, To pierce through shadows, to know the right. Not eyes alone, but heart must see— The world as Truth, eternally free.  “Be the witness of the world, not its slave.” – Mahavatar Babaji You tire of forms, of colors that fade, You seek the Truth beneath the shade. No more illusion, no more disguise, See with the Self beyond the eyes. Cleanse your vision, sharpen your gaze, Through yoga, silence, sacred ways. What you see is not always real— Truth lies deeper, still and still.  “With right vision comes right action.” – Mahavatar Babaji See injustice not with anger’s flame, But with love that calls each soul by name. Poverty, hunger, walls of hate— Are cries of karma we must f...
Read more

In Your Silence, I Reside

-
Image
I’ve learned to read the space you leave, The quiet hollows where words used to breathe. Your silence, a language I come to know- Not just absence, but the depths you show.   You walk away, and I stand still, Listening for echoes I can’t will. My tears fall softly, unspoken, unseen, Waiting for a voice that might have been.   You think strength is hiding away, But silence can be a storm in disarray. It’s the crack in the armor, the fragile break, The silent ache you choose not to fake.   When I cry, I need your hand- Not silence, not a distant stand. Love isn’t quiet when it’s true, It’s the voice that reaches, the care that’s due.   And now I see, I must reclaim, My heart’s own voice, my healing flame. I’ll build anew from what was lost, No door left open for the cost.   You may walk away, convinced you’re free, But in silence, I hold the key. For I’ve learned that love’s true art- Is knowing when to heal, and when to part.   ...
Read more

I, the First Sanctuary

-
Image
  I am the quiet fold of a woman’s embrace, the warm curve where the world first opens its eyes. From the foothills of my body, life climbs upward- every birth rising through me like dawn breaking over a mountain. I am the soft garden where lips learn their first language, the river that quenches the earliest thirst, the cradle where innocence curls in sleep, the harbor where trembling souls find their shore. Across me flow lullabies older than memory. In my tenderness hide the unshed tears of mothers who carried more than the world will ever know. I hold stories in my curves- dreams, longings, names whispered through centuries. Who has not traveled across me? Who has not rested in my shelter? In every gaze, every touch, every fleeting hunger, I see the reflection of the human race- a flame of need, a spark of hope, a fire that keeps life breathing. Sometimes I wander the world misread, misunderstood, like a traveler carrying a truth too ancient to explain. Yet I remain what I have...
Read more