My weary heart fails
I am on the crossroad of hope and despair
Gods are showing me the way
How long should I spend in mist?

Remembering the days of past glory
I can sow seeds in your breast
You know whether we can get a good harvest.

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My eyes pursue your images
The images of idle shadows among the mountains
Your weary heart on the raod to liberation
Your all dreams nestle in your breast.

One day we will die and your images will remain
The unborn child will cherish your dream
Will the unborn child ever be stillborn?

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It is a mystery that we exist. It is as though we exist as we are. But what we are and who we are? Where do we come from? And last but not the least, why do we exist? These are mysteries of all mysteries. Mysteries galore all over our universe. And we are here to decipher the codes of all universal mysteries. This way the mysteries of our life, or for that matter, of our whole existence get universalised with the phenomenology of nature as we are of the nature and the nature. Our essences of our existence is imbued with the phenomenology of nature

In the Old Testament the whole idea is embedded in the prophetic concept of the Messiah. Primordial man was supposed to put up a brave front in an undifferentiated and unblemished form of relation with the surroundings while taking a safe refuge in the Garden of Eden. There prevailed no consciousness, no differentiation, no choice or freedom as any unconscious being is supposed to have no discretionary power to any rein over himself. That was pre-individual unity with the nature and there was no diversity in that supposed unity. But that primordial unity came close to disruption when the first act of choice was called for and chosen. The first act of choice was the concerted and conscious disobedience of nature to hoist the flag of freedom.

The emergence of consciousness laid bare the chances to exist freely as a human being of himself and for himself irrespective of the emerging consequences that linger on with the angst of our existence as a being with the freedom of choices and faculties. This freedom is the harbinger of human history and in the annals of history we exist to live. The Latin word 'existere' from which the verb 'to exist' is evolved means to appear, emerge or to stand out. By this semantics it is plausibly construed that human beings are emerged out of the womb of nature, yet they stand out as a separate entity to exist.

This separateness had started since the time of rejection of primordial man from the Garden of Eden in quest of his voyage along a coast of impermanence and divergence. This idea put paid to all his chances of recovery into oneness with the absolute whole and his differentiated world became his one and only world. And in this world human beings are literally thrown into existence without having chosen it. Without having any pre-conceived cognisance of the cause and purpose of their existence, human beings are just thrown into this quagmire

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Only silence visits me in silence
A shadow follows me like a nightmare
My only agony breeds more contempt
Drowning me in a violence of pains.

The wind too ignores my appeal
Starry sky catches me on the wrong foot
Where can I go to get a rebirth from you.

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He is villagepeasant
simply living in a swathe of his plains
with a scythe in his forehand
and his fingers evenly poised sweatingly
on the wooden plough of his toil and moil
as simple as the humble ancestors
as they were walking the dust
far from the dawn to dusk
and as humble as the vast expanse
of the lengthening sky
as high as the small things
that fill the crux
of the pains and pleasures
in wisdom delight
never lowering the depth of his faith
at midnight darkness
as if the folk songs will ever be saving
his harvest of blood and sweats
to stoke the burning fire
of his home and hearth in twilight sun

In twilight sun and in lightening clouds
he alone reads the sundial of his destiny
when the rain lashes on his valley
when the vagrant storm threatens
days and nights of his small existence
his god has lent him a forest
to dwell in a hermit hut
to plough a lonely furrow
all in a country fair
as if to cry in happiness
and smile away all the wraths
of the forbidden poverty
in stoic perseverance
and in soulful endurance
of defying diligence
to dearly pursue the path of salvation
of fulfilling the endless saga
of a fairy tale life
unto the blessings of death
in his heavenly abode
weaving the myths
of wordly truths and lies
in a semblance of hope and despair

All hopes and despair
belying in piles of ageold wisdom
he will shake the world I know
I know the villagepeasant will go
for the long harvest to gather
he will leave everything
for all and everyone
his ancestral home and hearth
cattles, corns and the fields
of seasonal rain and draught
his sunny days, his moonlit nights
all for nothing of pristine beauty
to share the godly loves
his wisdom of togetherness
with the nature's bounty
wealth of universal faithfulness
and brotherhood of all to all
along with his treasure trove
of life's tranquility and eternity
his poverty for all and everyone
to share the bowl of hunger
from everyone's cup of weal and woes
I am sure he will not die for nothing
taking away all and everything with him
to sustain the pleasures of pains
of unrequited death
that is never to haunt him
down the long aisles of life's mission
to love for love as a villagepeasant.

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When you whisper in a soliloquy
I know your overcast face with breezy clouds
An eye of storm gathers rage in yonder land
A deep sigh freezes in circles of nothingness
As if the breezy clouds have lost their wings
And I know there will be no dewdrop of tears
The desert has a long season of drought
The breathless night sizzles with your passion
To chase the wisdom of ancient melancholy.

When your shadow lengthens on my long days and nights
I know the white ship has shed anchored on the dizzy isle
The wiping images of deserting times stop for a moment
Yet life knows the bounds of the basic truths
All hell let loose on the fleeting desires of peace
And peace meets the inevitability of deathly violence.
If you soar high up in the distant heaven to rain tears
The oceanic siren lazily bursts into deafening cheers
As if your intuition has led you into an abysmal disbelief
You know everything without knowing your course of destiny.

I know you
I know you without knowing you
Only my intuition knows me everything for you
Wherever you go go I know, whatever you know I know
And I know you will break the reins of your destiny someday
Someday we will meet in a seasonless journey of life and death.

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