Just a walk in the park in the evening—
The chaos in the mind melts away in the cooler breeze,
Summer flowers layer the air with heavy sweetness,
And the streetlight plays a game of golden shadows with the trees.
There are still blessings,
Wherever we may see,
But time, it runs and leaps and bounds away—
We have to do,
We have to dare,
We have to save the Earth!
In 10 years we may not recognize our lands and seas!
What will you do?
Nature still works!
It’s March and right on cue, there’s brilliant green everywhere,
The trees have woven beautiful new foliage for themselves.
They know it’s time,
They read the wind and earth and water,
And this is what they say, ‘We will uphold nature, will you?”
From afar I watch a mansion crumble,
I watch the inconceivable take shape,
And somehow, I am strengthened in my self.
Somehow, I feel the essential taut granite in me,
The one that holds up the truth.
Today I know that if there is to be any hope,
We each have to ascend.
Find our power, flex it,
And go heal this earth of ours.
In the crevasses of our world,
Where we’ve allowed one, maybe two lines of trees,
Birds live out their epic lives,
The orangutan withers.
We do a great disservice to the world, when we describe it, perceive it, classify it only through an evolutionary paradigm. All around, there are birds flying for the sheet joy of it, looping across the sky; monkeys whooping and playing and taunting dogs; there is a cow and a cat making friends… And the sun, great fiery ball of hydrogen though it may be, is smiling across to us from that unimaginable distance this fine end-of-summer day.
Even in our ‘modern’ ‘scientific’ minds, surely there is some space to expand our perception of this Earth, this Universe, to include love, the play of the spirit and sparkling, connecting joy?
Irrespective of species?
The mind extends beyond the body, it has to. If we can accept wi-fi, why can’t we think of our brains as being able to transmit waves of thought and intention? It’s all the co-mingling of matter and energy and vibrations, isn’t it?
What if the purpose was not to merely ‘evolve’? But to experience? To add? To feel?
What if each life, each rock, each drop of water, was an end in itself?
What is there within me today, that is deep and dark?
Complex chocolate foamy loam,
Worm dwelling, corporate shelling,
Ruined lives buried in glee?
What in me was dark is grey under siege,
In moments of such madness as these,
A poem is a silent angel of futility,
Parading unpretty in the hall of shame…
What is this world of melee?
What is proven if anything of fire?
There is but a chink of gold,
In each pearly sunset mound of flesh.
What is my glory, my honor?
Through words hot and cold,
I fly in incomprehensible circles,
And make my futile art of—
My phone made a movie all by itself! It’s got the most amazing yellow roses in it!
Please watch: The Beautiful Yellow Roses (Real Beauty Series, 3)
Come now, it isn’t so bad!
Didn’t we just decide to emerge?
Didn’t we just say, we would reach — high?
Don’t hide now, don’t fade.
It’s our time to shine.
It’s terrifying, yes; what if you get seen?
But darling, how will you see yourself unless you open up?
None of it matters, none of the hurt.
Just call out to the dawn moon,
Dance in starlight,
Trail a little of the ocean on your palm…
All our ashes will whirlwind in rainbows,
And we will be, what we were meant to be:
Sometimes, the simplest of equipment, the most basic of setups suffices to produce something marvelous.
Presenting: a phone camera macro, of a flower, a bee and even a tiny little golden ant!
The whorl of flowers seemed perfectly poised and then as I was taking the photo, this tiny feisty black bee landed on the petals and completely unconcerned about the giant with the phone filming the scene, it went about its vital job of nectar hunting!
It was amazing!
Found on a silver-golden morning walk.
In the middle of a bustling suburb in Pune, tucked away within a broad, quiet street lined with flowers, lies a patch of wilderness.
It’s a glimpse of what used to be, before the buildings rose up; brightness and shadows kept contained by corrugated steel.
Four trees, twisted by fate, prowl around each other among the defiant green:
Bougainvillea tangles into furious knots, warning greedy humans away:
And a young tree, full of foolish hope, dances along to the beat of the flowing creepers:
You stand entranced. Compelled almost to tears by all this primordial intensity. Till the spell releases you, till your gaze shifts, to the road, to sweet green innocence: