A reflection

On a relatively quite winter evening
In an endless journey home
I found myself at a loss for meaning
Of answers I've always known.

Once-familiar questions of life and things
Became shapeless clouds of uncertainty
Self-doubt with all the loneliness it brings
With the shadows grew silently.

A sudden hatred for a window-pane life
I turned away from my reflected face
Expecting to find familiar emptiness found i
Four strangers in its place.

One was an old man, peaceful and pure
His face was, of wisdom, bright.
His hands were steady, his eyesight sure;
His clothes of the gentlest white.

His life was extensive;his memory keen
In my mind - 'A Philosopher' was he,
One who sees life and the pattern in between
The cause and effects of reality.

The second was a young man, unaware of his youth
He lived in a world so unique.
In words and colours he'd found his truth
He would listen when nature speaks.

Never cared he for opinions and friends
For he saw what others couldnt see.
The bonds of the world that break and blend
He was 'The Artist' to me.

The third was a boy, nineteen years of age
He was clearly 'A Student' of science.
His knowledge of life came from a textbook page
His discipline from measured lines.

Knowledgeable was he in many a word
In any argument, a flaw he could find.
Demanded proof for everything he heard
Logic alone would satisfy his mind.

The fourth was a 'Wanderer', carefree and wry
He was alive, but on terms of his own
There was no whim that he would self-deny
There was freedom in his every bone.

He was more a rebel than an outcast
Within society's propped up show,
Never fought the system; simply walked past
Towards where he wanted to go.

Now, to each I posed a query; in return
From each an answer i got
Which from rose curiosity, another query in turn
Perhaps time stopped to listen, I know not.

For memory, I in as such form as i learn'd
Have recorded what each had to say
In the lines that i found every truth i yearn'd
Understand what you may.



SAID THE PHILOSOPHER...



Who am I to judge
the working of a universe
controlled by a collective consciousness?

The universe,
that is the greatest democracy
to ever exist in itself.

Everything that is,
is a consequence
of a direct majority of thought.

To us, what is..is
because of what was,
what can be or what is not.

In the eternal piece of art
the canvas shows..
only that which we wish to see.

A circle cannot remain as such
for it needs spiral in
eventually.

Most men live
in great hope or fear
of being chosen for a grander fate.

Only the ignorant
and the truly enlightened could see
they're all-important in the cosmic state.



SAID THE ARTIST...



I am an artist
i become everything i see
I am an artist
and my greatest work is me.

All that i touch is real
even illusions and dreams
If the world is in my mind
then everything is as it seems.

The universe is my easel
and my subject and my muse
The colours are my emotions
that swirl and swivel as they choose.

My poems are confessions
whispers from a higher self.
Every rhyme and every word
tiny reflections of myself.

Dimensions change with time
time itself..just another place.
No boundaries, only bondages;
and beyond..white empty space.

In the whirlpool of relative senses
reality is as choices decide.
What you call art, i call life..as seen
from the remaining countless sides.



AND THE STUDENT SPOKE....



Too much time is being spent
in the pursuit of meaningless things
With neither release nor reason
In the subsequent happenings.

Words are used with decreasing care
common sense sacrificed for no cause
Our highest of principles abandoned
with total neglect for what it once was.

Knowledge is what separates
a man from lesser men,
There is freedom within its boundaries,
only darkness beyond his ken.

Everything has an explanation
and every explanation, a base;
Miracles reflect a narrow vision
rather than Godly grace.

Brilliant is only as brilliant does,
we all know this to be true.
Intent can buy us time but
we're all defined by what we do.

Obstacles will forever come
to dissuade us from our goal.
Distractions will appear
to tempt, weaken and cajole.

To shrug it off is simple
every time the road gets steep.
An intact sense of purpose
is the hardest thing to keep.

Perfection is nothing but,
excellence in constant state.
With responsibility towards our actions,
not dedicating it to fate.

In the final count, its discipline
that unbinds success from chance.
Takes over the reins of your future
to place them within your hands.






AND FINALLY, THE WANDERER SPOKE...


Let the wheels of the world keep circling now
Let what goes up come down somehow
Let all of our games end with everyone's bow
Would that be an ideal place?

If the rain can fall on the greenest grass
If all the gates were open so that all may pass
If all our thoughts were clear as crystal glass
Where would we hide our disgrace?

I believe in love but I've seen hate
And I've seen men in their lowest state
And i cant afford to stand and wait
For cynicism to take my mind.

Because I've too many things left to do.
So many dreams, and I've fulfilled too few.
Satisfaction,even with none doubting you
Is hard enough to find.

Let each one take the path he chose
Reserve judgment till we reach the close
In every man's life, he alone best knows
Why and what needs to be done.

Else, come, wake up to what lies in store
Chaos remains confined no more
They're all looking out for an exit door
Not knowing there isn't one.

Rules are made by those who decide
Which thoughts of yours to glorify or hide
My consciousness is the only guide
That I will let dictate.

My life is lived within the lines i set
My actions done with no regret
For as long as i cause you no threat
Our paths will not relate.

I accept there's no true independent man
We're all wound up in a grander plan
Complete freedom leaves us no different than
A malignant cancer cell.

Learn as much as you wish to know
Touch the sky, and then let it go
Decide your principles that you'l forever follow
And it will all be well.






THE ENDING...




For the longest while, there was silent peace
As i stared outside into time.
The hatred i'd felt had long since ceased
I'd been lifted into the sublime.

Slowly, permanently, I understand
What true happiness can bring
Its knowing and rejoicing where you stand
In the general scheme of things.

The silence grows on, the strangers speak no more
But i dont think i'l turn to see
For i'd realised it some time before,
There never was anyone else here but me.

- Siddharth . R. Warrier