Tough Love

On the cross, I stare while basking in silence

With nary a thought traipsing in my head

Merely taking my time in tracing each crimson path

That from His crown and nails had spread.

Then my gaze fell on His eyes, and was shaken

From there, a disconcerting truth, revealed

That despite the enormous weight of pain

There reigns a love unparalleled, pure and still.

Then I wondered if even for a moment, He wavered in His belief,

While under the blistering heat of the noontime sun, which offered no reprieve

His sight sweeping across a sea of angry faces, hoarsely screaming for His blood

When days before, His words and works, to their brokenness soothed and salved.

It could have had been more acceptable if in His dying breath

The fiercest condemnation from His lips He did not repress

But then, off-guard they were all taken, hardly did they expect

Because before His eyes fluttered to a close, forgiveness was all He said.

On hindsight, I am filled with gratitude that things turned out according to His way

Since like the people of yore, I too, because of sins have been badly frayed.

If He had given up on them, then now, to whom should I turn for relief?

Moreover, with all the lies around, then in whose truth should I believe?

And so, to the high heavens, with head bowed, I whispered my thanks

Since He chose to rise from the challenge and to us, He gave an awesome grace

That is, though truly undeserving, through a promise He faithfully keeps,

That to anyone who asks, knocks, and seeks, endless second chances He would give.

The Wider Circle

There is a wider circle

That every soul should know

Where pain stings much deeper

And spirits are brought so low.

In there, are plaintive voices growing louder

From hunger and misery unappeased

From homelessness and hopelessness

That has yet to cease.

Do not speak about never having enough

When others have nothing to speak of

Do not fret about the clime while fully clothed

And on the near nakedness of some, still have the gall to gloat

Look closely and carefully at that circle

And please, please do not take delight

On the knowledge that you enjoy a greater edge

Or in their filth and decay, them, you must despise.

For if you do, then you have done the same

To me, whom you call, “my Lord”

Because once, I was in that circle too

And on its shores was moored.

So do not resort to indifference or apathy

If you would want to be true

To the faith that you profess so ostensibly

Since there is still so much work to do

So take my hand and hold on tight

For the toil ahead would be tough

However, rest assured that in the end

Your cause will not go to naught.

You may expire from weariness

With your friends forgetting your name

But in my kingdom, your room awaits

With my love for you, timelessly set aflame.

Stilled Bliss from Unfettered Time

Dusk silently settling all around, moving surreptitiously

Without breaking man’s reverie... in such effortless pace

Waltzing between diaphanous lights and thickening shades

Till now and then, are tightly twined into a nocturnal embrace.

The inevitability of letting go of how was and how is

In passing moments, like sands sifting through clasped hands,

Providentially unbridled in their undulating dance,

While smithereens of life, strewing all over with each prance.

Then with nary a sign, the music would come to a halt

Often not with dissipating faintness or even a hallow thud

But through an intrusive new tune that would tear and rob

Of a dreamer of his hope or a lover of his love.

If only man be excused from such foreordained lot,

Never to be unwittingly caught in a state of regret or distraught

Over chances missed in words unuttered and feelings unexpressed

But forever, to live in the moment when he is most blessed.

Alas! Reality would always remind, this cannot and will not be so

For even a thousand dawns would not make for a day

Since the radiance of morn through the velvety shadows, relayed,

Like an instance of courage is birthed from its progenitor’s dismay

Still, there is solace in this seemingly inescapable plight

Because such frivolous pursuit is only half the slight

If in each bliss, man would live and give, as if it is his last

Then such moment is his, eternally to bask.