A photon has no time.
Here and there, instantly.
No distance too, when in the light.
All is one, one is all,
                                     eternally.

Space is that between here from there.
I am here and you are there.
Time is that between now from then.
I am here and you're dead or yet to be.

My soul cries within
and says this cannot be.
We are one, not apart,
but always one.

Why do we see, here and there, now and then?
Why do my eyes betray me with distance and change?
Why am I an exile in a strange land,
of blind people speaking a strange tongue?
And all I hear is, "Take my hand, Follow me."

The Peak of Success

The reason
My professor loved me
So much,
I thought there was
Something to be known.
When I asked him
To give its account,
He smiled and
Had something nice
To be shown.
He opened his diary then,
Some lines he sought.
Once you'd opined,
he said then,
It was the great thought
On the peak of success
(in your mind).
He continued his talk
And told the rest,
It shouldn't be having
The tip and cliff
Or that of the Everest.
A question you'd raised,
What if it is
The Table Mountain
And its land?
You meant, its crest,
Where everyone
Could stand.

S. Bharat

The curtains twitch... in my street,
They pretend to be rich... in my street,
The gossips thrive... in my street,
But they’re barely alive... in my street,

The big cars come and go,
They all reap what they sow,
They pretend and they trick,
Atmosphere is so thick,
I’m the **** of their jokes,
And they pinch, and they poke,
But they fail to agree,
That I see what I see,
What I see, is the truth,
I will shout from the roof,
They can’t judge me at all,
For I’ve seen where they crawl,
but my lips they stay tight,
For there will come a night,
When they will see me see,
And they’ll understand me,

People talk... in my street,
People stalk... in my street,
A massive game... in my street,
We’re all the same... in my street..

You have walked down the path of soul-searching for far too long my dear woman
You have thereupon tasted sin in that of poisonous water
And in that of the flesh of men
And in that of the flesh of women
And in that of tears of whom gave birth to you
And in that of disappointment you have caused to the only man you have so much loved

Now my dear,
Tell me
What is it that you found?

~

I have not find
But I have only learned
That it is about time I get to know You

~

I have known you since you were sleeping
Silently and unagitated to what there is to life
And that was when you were in the womb of your mother
Its warmth enveloped your paper-thin skin
And her heart was beating synchronously to yours
And both of your soul and body coexisted

When you left the comfort of the greatest
And the warmest thing of motherhood
You came into the world crying
Your skin red
Your lips the contrasting colour
White as the cleanest sheet
You now existed at and on your own body
Small—but bold and vulnerable
Like that of the most expensive glass

You cried
Because you are on your own

When you grow
I have known you even better
Closer but farther
So dear and so true
I am not watching you
I am rooting for you

~

I have sinned but I have learned
I have cried and I have hurt
I have taught and be taught
I have lost only to be found

The second I kneeled
Upon the heat of the thick but delicate sheet
I have remembered
That none of the things in this existing life
Belongs to me
But are rather
given to me

I have been missing You for far too long.

This is just another perspective
given form by conscious centrality, or
Perhaps I’m too introspective.

From young we learn to seek directive, and
to live with a certain frugality,
But this is just another perspective.

An unmoved pen is too corrective;
The hand hesitates for fear of banality;
Or perhaps I’m too introspective.

Life, as poetry, is connective;
Embrace the paradox of each duality; but
This is just another perspective.

I dream to love the imperfective,
Because we’re all an abnormality;
Perhaps I’m too introspective.

What if we stop trying to be corrective,
And instead embrace individuality?
This is just another perspective,
Or perhaps I’m too introspective.