Ramblings of Mind -7

Why is there a quest we seek, which defines the purpose of our lives?
The poverty, hunger, injustice and suffering all around us and more within; isn't it sufficient to shake us out of the stupor and futility in the way we exist?
Is it because the majority of us are still ignorant and selfish? We are unaware of the beauty and pathos in the life and live like a spider at the centre of the small web we create of our own ideas?
The society or to use a more collective word, humanity, at large is growing ever more intolerant, war mongering and self centred for its own existence.
As one wades through the news and even our immediate vicinity, one cannot help but notice the anger and cruelty that is so palpable. Our cultural signposts, of music, art and literature are no longer there to nourish the soul and detox it, but have become tools for profit seeking and hedonism.
A select few with the right of their might decide for the majority and hence their ignorance is further laid upon generations that are easily swayed to gross materialism and becomes even more grotesque images of their ancestral follies.

Will the answers come too late to save us from a doom?
A future where nothing exists but darkness and ignorance? Are we all fated to be damned as a race and then fade into oblivion.
As a human being isn't it our responsibility and role to safeguard the place we are dependent for our existence?
Guess each must find his/her own path. And as Buddha said "All compounded things are ephemeral. Work out your own salvation"

A walk in the woods, an autumn evening

A walk in the woods, quiet and forsaken,
As the season of autumn just sets in.
Trees are a thousand pillars, holding the skies aloft,
And the falling leaves trace a road, paved with gold.


A gentle cool breeze, accompanies me on the stroll,
She smells of earth and burnt wood in hearths.
The sun softly sinks away from the zenith,
And the blue sky is a pastel of orange and pink.


The merry brook plays a rippling lyre, on the stones
And the roosting birds o'erhead complete the orchestra.
It is the music arcane, a song of the forest's soul,
So old and yet so fresh; my heart's lost in a trance.


Am all alone by myself, perhaps the mirage of tranquility smiles,
As the twilight fades into a starry night; heaven a mirror of fireflies.
The silent night seduces me; an enchantress' temptations.
Far somewhere, on the edge of these treacherous illusions,
A pair of hazel eyes search for me anxiously and wait.


A sirens' song is all this scenery, I know,
Yet I shall be drawn to it again tomorrow.
Now, from this land of fantasy, I take a flight,
Go home, have supper and to kiss my daughter a good night.