Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Slipping away in time…

As the night walks far from day
I sit in that corner where sunset occurs
Counting the hundreds or perhaps thousands of desires
That everyday sets through this mind of mine.

Mere existence steeped in darkness drags me far
From the real to the unreal, I wonder why this must happen
Alas! A little man standing in the center of nowhere
I have failed to gauge the impact of this transition.

Realizing that one day shall come to profess
My oneness with the existing eternal reality that carries the might,
And I believe one day shall come to help to cease the waves of desire
Eternally, guide me out from the veil of ignorance.

The eastern guides of yore in traditional garbs carry many words
That stands not within my boundary of understanding
Yet, my inner voice tells me of possible emergence of this mind from mud
And leave the treacherous shadow that trails far behind for good.

Humanity is far more grateful that anything else, I am aware of that,
A little help we render let it be the selfless one without ulterior motives
So be it as it may, the grace of the great ones may dawn silently
The sunrise will shine brightly at the end of the world, in golden rays.

As the night walks far from day
I sit in that corner where sunset occurs
Counting the hundreds or perhaps thousands of desires
That everyday set through this mind of mine,

Silently witnessing my silent wishes stripped with my consent
And I shall be void,
Again.

©2009 cyclopseven. All rights reserved 120509.

3 comments:

  1. Fine poem, Cyclop
    very human....i think we all should have been there sometime or other...and will be there again too :)

    mind is so used to travelling from real to unreal :)

    wishes,
    devika

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  2. "The eastern guides of yore in traditional garbs carry many words"

    What that means?

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  3. When desire/ego bows to the perfect spirit within how wonderful the rest of the journey becomes. Would that we were not so attached to our desires...
    I always enjoy your stark honesty in your poems Cyclopseven.

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