Thursday, June 30, 2011


Birds chirp, and monkeys chatter
Leaves rustle, and grass dances
As the wind sweeps across
To kiss the falling dewdrops
The sun rises with brilliant golden rays
Bathing dewdrops with utmost worship,
Magnificent colors diversify
And, each color speaks a language.

As each lays on the leaves and grass
The meadow sparkles colorfully
Another painting for another day
Nature speaks in many ways
This hour in the morning 
Just a fraction of the mystery
Of what nature will ever be
And, of what we will ever see.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 30062011


life passes by
within a tick,
the rest are but fantasies
in dream.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 30062011

Saturday, June 25, 2011


His fingers
Pamper her short hair.

She was shy
With eyes looking down
Hands plucking the grass

Suddenly he stopped.
His eyes focused intently.
He picked the lice
Placed it in his mouth.

His fingers
Pamper her short hair.

Another lice comes by.
Monkeys in love.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 250611.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The Idea and the Ideal

Go as far as you may
To the stars high up and earth beneath
In the moon and the sun
In the air and the space
All space filled invisibly, with,
This energy masked by manifestation.
In delusory subjugation we let ourselves down
'Coz, we have lost the key to the heart
The seat of faith, food for soul.

We stumble and stumble
Searching Him far far away
And, we find Him not in our hearts.
Because he who sees through the eyes
See Him not, as the basis of his vision.
In all that is seen and in unseen
In that which is filled and in hollowness
In space beyond the reach of eyes
In the rocks, trees, animals and in humankind
And, between the walls and pillars of many houses
Churches, Temples and Mosques
He lies still engrossed in His own play
And, the dissected mind portrays
Him to be different here, and different there
He is now here, and yet appears as if He is no where!
But, beads that appears separate in a garland
Strung together by a single thread
The thread we hardly see.

The divine invisible is everywhere
But, in creation He speaks His language.
The idea is evident and clear 
The ideal makes it happen.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 210611.

Monday, June 06, 2011


In my absence that makes time tender
The heart grows fonder.

In my presence that makes time solid
The heart is cut asunder.

Is this my fault?
Perhaps it is not.

Is this your fault?
Perhaps it is not.

Is this our fault?
Perhaps it is not.

Is this God’s fault?
Perhaps it is.

What mystery does this relationship holds?
Ages and till now it remains untold.

©All rights reserved. Cyclopseven 06062011.