To Be

Pushing hard to be aware all the time—
It might be a stress, like chasing the wind, grasping the sky,
Forgetting that silence knows best.
Trying to stay with whatever is there inside.

The Choices
It seems nothing rests in the hands of a child—
Yet quietly, the soul decides,
whom to surrender,
There was always
a silent awareness.

Poem

What troubled me,
Cannot analyse.
After a long inner debate, I decided or got tired,
With a little choice, I poured my energy-
into living it.
Putting head in the wave
to cross it.

Poem

Each becoming what they were meant to be.
For me, love and silence were my soul’s choice.
Life unfolded only in accordance with that—
Now I look back and see—
All was meaningful.
No friends, no real attachments, no regrets.
I thank God,
for both the joys and the miseries.