Prose Poem

Cor Cordium

Skylark in flight, paper, ink drawing by Ingrid Blixt.

What the heart knows it reveals without any second thoughts for it does not weigh its words. The heart never babbles, it speaks passionately for it speaks the truth.  

The heart speaks to a calm mind, to an honest voice, to a confident cry. The heart speaks fluently and soulfully.  

Powerful enough to move mountains, the heart often uses poems to express, to highlight, to show what the eyes cannot see, to declare and vanquish weaklings who betray humanity.  

I am thinking of you and your skylark song, cor cordium, you listened to your heart then and we are listening to you since.    


Cor Cordium is Latin for ‘Heart of Hearts’; it is the inscription written on Percy Bysshe Shelley’s grave to whom I dedicate this piece.


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Like Water

To be just like water…
[Image from Pixabay.]

Flowing like water, befriending every rock, shaping it and letting it shape the movement… flowing like water, at peace with the dirt that blurs the vision, that disrupts the course and just letting it settle down… flowing like water with an open heart, warmth for the tiniest being and love for the fiercest soul… flowing like water nurturing and rejuvenating, sprinkling and splashing… flowing like a stream, a river, attuned to a wonderful rhythm, spirited to meet the sea, the supreme in the end… I wish to be, rejoice and live like water.


The post is inspired by what architect Douglas Wan said in this video – ‘people are like water… more adaptable than objects.’
 


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Bumblebee

Prose Poem

“Towards the Moon flower”, said the Bumblebee.
[Source – Pixabay]

Flying high in the sky reaching for the beautiful white flower named moon, the Bumblebee forgot about home, colours and fragrance of the land.

The wind resisted it, throwing it back and forth. Like a puppet the Bumblebee danced.

It rose up and crossed the cloudy river, river that was flowing to nowhere special, river that was attuned with the Universe.

A tiny spot, a funny Bumblebee approaching its white flower… the moon saw it and decided to wait

 
 

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Ik Onkar

Look within and fly high!
Image from Pixabay.

Parvez it is familiar because it is music… and music cannot be forgotten once the wavelength matches.


Parvez it is shining because it is guiding… we all can follow, dawn to dusk, it is listening, it is reminding.


Parvez it is present because it is true and ‘timed’ for you… beyond measurements, answers and queues.


Parvez it is travelling, because it understands the journey is never-ending… shimmering throughout, glorifying silence.


Parvez it is dancing because it believes in union… one circle, two circles, circles resolve it all.


Parvez it is there, because you garnered patience.


Parvez it is talking, because you are listening.


Parvez it is knowable, though you still don’t know it.


Parvez, look within.

Ik Onkar Sat Naam

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Listen to this Mul Mantar

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A Memory in My Pocket

Prose Poem

I found a memory folded in a paper. I read it and it hit me.
 
The memory was not meant to meet me. It was draped with words that were very loud. Terse and cold.
 
It said ‘I am leaving you…forever’ with the initials Rosie.K.
 
I wondered how the person for whom this memory was meant to be dealt with it.
 
Naively, I searched around for Rosie.K, but the wind made my eyes wet instead.
 
I read and re-read the memory as if it would reveal some more of it through magical words.
 
Why do memories always make us halt, lying to us that we can play with time, even reverse it?
 
I folded the memory again and kept it in my jacket’s pocket.
 
It tickles me whenever it feels like making me unfold it.
 
A Memory In My Pocket
Image by TanteTati from Pixabay

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