Monday, 17 April 2017

Manifesto of Love

Love as it's named,
has been understood in the most misunderstood and correct manner,
Confusing is not the case but,
perhaps, the conundrum of feelings is the identity.
It appears in many forms,
it races to eternal death,
yet, mysteriously it resurfaces from nowhere,
to trouble you and appeals you to reconsider the purpose of life.
Somewhere beside the Ganges,
it may not drown itself,
it may take birth from ashes to gently make the fire immemorable,
it may sometimes be handicapped,
little dumb, with amputated leg,
and yet not get any sympathy from the society.
Blind as always the case,
yet it is impossible to get an eye donor to show love the real world.
It may die young, as it is difficult to upbring it,
it needs lots of motherly care,
which cannot be affordable to materialistic souls.
It used to have a fair mortality rate in ancient times,
before the advent of distractive machines.
Now, as is the case, a long life of love,
a silver jubilee, is something extraordinary.
extraordinary in a society where lawyers are profiting from the death of love.
Yet, poor souls of poets try to keep love alive,
if not in the heart of their beloved,
but, in the tales and poems,
As the poems become the museum of love,
the tragedies contain its fossils,
which are often visited by dead souls,
wandering for a drop of love in the soul of their beloved.
Sweet it is to think, love is bulletproof,
wonderful it is to think, it is timeproof,
every organisation today wishes to be as autonomous as love is.
Never had it fumbled listening to the loss of ownership of the soul of beloved,
rather, it has made a mark, to resurface as a fossil in poems.
Never had it drowned in its own tears,
but, inspiringly, it has grown stronger from its own tears.
It is not having a good reputation in the society, mysteriously,
perhaps, because, it has not been understood by many,
as, it is not all, eligible enough to encounter 'love',
it demands a great sense of spirituality,
a vast sacrifice from the materialistic giant world,
and a firm hold of determination of eternality.
Beauty is what it is for someone who has experienced,
mere feeling of love is divine,
nothing has ever been able to replace it.




With every morning breeze...

With every morning breeze,
the message of faith in humanity is delivered,
with every kind act, the comrades of love are donated blood.
In the midst of hatred in the world,
in the crowd of controversy mongers and sponsored lies,
every truth bearer resembles a gigantic ship in an ocean,
which is not afraid to carry the truth and sail through the stormy nights.

In a world of debated lies,
in a society of contested rights,
in a community of polarised freedom,
and in a mind enslaved by demagogues,
let it be appealed again,
for the mind to be rational and the heart to preach love,
to let go the status quo which is self-destructive,
to learn the art of distributive justice and to adopt it as the noblest of habits,
to hear all and understand all,
not to consider all but, to filter talks and gauge the principles,
for an individual of principle is what the society dreams of,
for an individual who can weep tears of others as if it is of self,
is what a society lives for.

So be the present be beautified by love,
as when the present is taken care,
the future grows from its seed.
Let for once and all,
the history only hold the differences of creed,
let for once and all,
in spite of differences, the hearts beat for each others' peace,
let's not keep differences above humanity,
when we do so, it is differences which are realised as things of beauty.

With every morning breeze,
let the word of love spread stronger every day.