Tag Archives: God

We Were the Answer All Along

Posted in Poetry English by

A spiritual journey that ends not in heaven, but in the self.

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I was searching for Him, here and there,

asking all the right questions - who and where

I had been looking for Him since my very birth,

under the kind sky and above the sordid earth

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I thought He was my father in a great disguise,

by my side, through all the downs and the highs

Then he went away one day, never to return,

leaving me alone to grow up, survive, and learn

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I thought I saw Him in my mother’s loving eyes,

her stern looks and valuable words, always so wise

Then she chose to live for herself as it was her right,

forcing me to resist, mature, and sometimes even fight

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I searched for Him in the smiles of my friends,

as life made us run around its many sharp bends

They demonstrated their limitations so very often,

and sometimes I even had to carry their heavy coffin

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I searched for Him in the words of my few mentors,

they gave me new knowledge and opened new doors

But then, even they faltered and committed mistakes,

and what we really had was, in fact, all gives and takes

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I looked for Him in the face of a haggard beggar,

sitting on the pavement in his tattered sweater

But then he pleaded and appealed and wept,

and that he was not the Almighty, I had to accept

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I looked for Him in the power of the rich,

ruthlessness and authority without any glitch

But then their corruption became so clear,

and I understood their secret, their dark and hidden fear

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I thought I was never going to find Him,

my efforts all failed, and the prospects were so grim

I looked up and prayed, but there was no reply,

I would never find him, I almost admitted with a sigh

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Then one morning, I woke up from a long dream,

it was so damn lucid, it had an actual theme

The dream was mine, and it was mine alone,

and everything in the dream, I could wilfully own

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In that dream, there was a multitude of choices,

and I could hear all the reasons and all the voices

In that dream, I was free to live and to decide,

I could choose freely, if I wanted shame or pride

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In that dream, I could abandon or hold hands,

and could peep into future, and see results of my plans

In that dream, there was no religion and no rites,

only morality reigned and established all the rights

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It was my dream, and I could make it a nightmare,

it was my dream, and I could make it either cheap or rare

It was my dream, and I was a god dreaming it,

it was my dream, and I could act as I saw or deemed fit

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Waking up, I realized, we all dream our own dreams,

even this life could be one or a long series of dreams

Waking up, I realized, God is not a separate being,

He is our part - we all are almighty and the all-seeing

We are all dreaming the Same Fucking Dream

Posted in Poetry English by

Different lives, but the same hunger, the same corruption, and the same ending.

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We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

endless desires, with lust as the main theme

Born in the lap of fate, we aim to rise so high,

we laugh at each gain; on each misery we cry

Greed rules our hearts, neither love nor faith,

into the darkness we dwell, like a sniveling wreath

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We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

pursuits are the same, different they may seem

Our journeys start with ambition, blood, and sweat,

our baggage is so heavy, all remorse and just regret

Our birth is by chance, but our death is so sure,

we praise the lofty God with hearts so impure

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We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

gold, women, and land, we all hail, we all scream

Betrayals are abundant, and loyalty is so very rare,

blindly following the devil without any apparent care

It’s the sin that we seek and the virtue that we reject,

in the end, it’s just guilt; it’s all that we collect

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We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

the purpose of life we forget, this we cannot redeem

That we have to hold hands, we have to serve others,

yet we kick the dog, ignoring that we are brothers

That we are all the same spirit, we are all part of God,

the system is all perfect, but the users are all flawed

The Miserable End of a Failed Hero

Posted in Poetry English by

A brutal dialogue between a broken mortal and a mocking god.

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Receding deep into yourself, being enfolded in layers,

blanking out the chaos of complicated relationships

Tightly wrapped within a cocoon of your icy, cold self,

the harsh and cruel reality is the one and final eclipse

That is your nirvana, that is your long, torturous bliss,

that’s what’s written by fate, in all its useless scripts

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Your cocoon will hang forever - the dangling shell,

on a grey cracked wall, in the hall of eternal sadness

There it will hang, and you will squirm deep within,

away from the merry crowds, the throbbing madness

That will be your heaven, and that will be your hell,

both equally quiet, under the ever-ruling darkness

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When the bored God visits and knocks at the cocoon,

asking if you are still alive within the silent confines

You will scream from within, a long tormented wail,

‘I did what you asked me to do, I followed all the lines

I crushed my own ego, I buried it deep and still alive,

damning myself to patience, despite all the odd signs’

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And the God will laugh, He will laugh long and hard,

‘you pathetic asshole, you miserably crawling bastard

You tried to fight fate, but you failed to learn from life,

you were no crowned hero, you were merely a dastard

Now burn forever in your heaven, as it is also your hell,

self-torture is the only art you have really mastered’

Our Heaven is Here, Our Hell is Here

Posted in Poetry English by

What if heaven and hell aren’t places you go after death, but consequences you create with every action?

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For those who look up to the skies with searching eyes,

look all around us, our heaven is here, our hell is here

They are all liars, the holy ones with their beseeching cries,

they do not seek your salvation; they simply do not care

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When you smile with joy, seeing a lovely piece of art,

the beautiful flowers of heaven, you can indeed smell

When jealousy scars your soul and burns your pure heart,

you can feel the searing heat of the flames of your hell

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When you taste your lover’s kiss and her warm embrace,

the cool breeze of heaven surrounds your whole being

When betrayal murders your ego and brings you disgrace,

the fires of hell consume you without you ever seeing

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When you choose to be kind without any expectation,

the rain clouds from heaven drench you with humility

When you are selfish and within reach of damnation,

the serpent of guilt suffocates you with sheer hostility

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When you hold a tired hand much in need of your help,

your heart becomes heaven, filled with His affection

When you hit a dog without any care for his yelp,

the poisonous scorpion of Karma makes its own selection

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There may come an end, there may be a judgment day,

you may be judged by Him; He may be kind or merciful

But when you make a choice, you always have to pay,

you may create an ugly hell or a heaven so beautiful

The Day I Met God

Posted in Short Stories English by

Lost in the desert and abandoned by my caravan, I stumbled into a village where famine had killed everything except love, and there I witnessed the face of God.

A haunting narrative of a traveler abandoned in the desert who stumbles upon a village devastated by famine, where death and hunger reign supreme. Through stark, unflinching prose, the story follows the protagonist from a night of passion with a gypsy woman to a searing encounter with human suffering at its most extreme.

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I had separated from the caravan. When I woke up, the camels were nowhere to be seen. Only the steaming piles of dung and the remnants of smouldering fires remained. The sun had risen in the desert sky - it was already midday. A few vultures sat at a distance, watching me with hungry eyes.

I cursed my luck and silently abused the spicy wine, bought from an equally spicy gypsy woman. That night, I was on my naked back, being caressed by the cool sand, and she rode me with a vengeance. Her head full of dark snakes formed a halo around her oval face. I looked at the glittering galaxy, weaving stars through her Medusan tresses. She moved, and the galaxy moved with her. We left the desert floor and rose into the crisp night air. One supernova of pleasure after another, and I lost myself in both time and space.

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I got up and swayed for a while on my unsteady legs. The day was hot around me as the cruel sun beams scorched all that they touched. The scalding wind blew from an unseen burning oven. I filled my leather flask with muddy water from the hole and started walking. I followed the camel tracks with a rapidly fading hope of catching the caravan.

I walked and walked some more. I walked until blisters formed on the soles of my feet. Then the blisters burst and became sores. But still I walked. To stop meant death, and I didn’t want to die.

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I walked on and came across a village devastated by famine, comprising a handful of mud huts and burnt fields of corn. I looked around and saw death everywhere. Hunger had sucked the life out of the dying children, and the shrivelled breasts of their mothers oozed blood. The earth was blankly staring at the merciless skies, cracked all over and parched with an eternal thirst.

There were a few stray dogs, and they had their bloody jaws buried in the bellies of the dead, thankful for a mouthful of stringy, rotten flesh. The vultures sat atop the dried-up branches of blackened trees, silently watching the last glimmer of life fading away.

‘This is surely hell…!’, I thought, ‘…and God has abandoned earth!’

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A sudden pull on my tunic, and I looked down. It was a woman, rather just the shadow of a woman. Her skeletal hands grasped my ankle tightly - the shrunken eyes screaming a silent plea. A tongue, dry and white with thirst, licked at the dry, clotted blood on her lips. She tried to muster up her leftover energy, but her dried-up throat was unable to produce the word ‘water’.

I offered her the unscrewed flask.

‘Take it!’ I gestured. ‘I am sorry, but only a mouthful is left.’

She held the bottle in her hands, her eyes wide with disbelief. She hesitatingly took a sip but did not swallow.

‘Go on,’ I pushed her silently. ‘Swallow it!’

A ghost of a smile danced on her bloody lips, and I realized that she could swallow, but was saving the water for some other purpose. Bending her head down, she brushed aside her tattered shawl. There was a baby in her lap. She kissed her dying baby on the lips and poured the water into the baby’s mouth.

I looked on, witnessing the miracle of motherly love. She wiped away her dry tears and stared at me. All was dead except the eyes. Then she breathed her last, and the eyes died too.

I saw God smiling from behind the shrunken depths of her dead eyes.

‘I am here,’ He said.