Where Love Has Gone

Although its lips did move, I couldn’t hear it speak,
Was busy with thoughts, and their noises were at peak,
Else I would have seen it open the door, and walk out,
The room was empty, of that there was no doubt.

I ran out onto the street, to the fountain square,
Where will I head, I see its footprints everywhere,
Walking in all directions, and walking back again,
They were all over the place, like a monsoon rain.

I walked back into the room, now empty and so closed,
I wondered, was this where I had kept love confined,
Where I expected it to stay, until I gave it away,
And it lay there, knowing it wouldn’t see such a day.

Not even a window, where it could see or be seen,
With my mind as guardian, nobody more mean,
My science, my logic, a door it could never break,
I still wonder, how such a fortress, I could ever make.

And yet today, seeing this room empty, I begin to ponder,
Was it ever there, could I really have captured this wonder,
Did I hide it from all else and itself, behind this open door,
Or did it burst open, because there was too much to store.

Whatever the reason, there is no longer love in my heart,
A place I thought it would stay, till I told it to part,
But who was I to build a dam, to contain this flood,
One that blossomed forth from every new bud.

I try to forget it and move on, but I cannot restrain,
To think, of where love has gone, alone again,
But I know it will be back, oozing from my every pore,
If only I promise, to never again close that door.

- GUPTA GHOST

<--Special Thanks to Harold Robbins for the title. The moment I first saw it I fell in love with the title, I mean, the very thought, how could love go anywhere? Although have never got round the book itself, decided that I would explore that title as a thought one day, and dear Robbins, hear it is, for all that you gave me-->

You

When the first ray of sunlight, caresses my face, I think of You,
Warming up the earth, before I can even set foot on the dew,
You burn up my eyes, and yet warm my heart,
A light that awakens, a light that emboldens.

When the first drop of rain falls on my shoe, I remember You,
Washing out the dust, painting the ground anew,
You clean out my emotions, yet nourish them again,
A rainfall that cleanses, a rainfall that rejuvenates.

When the first flower blooms in my garden, I smell You,
You bloomed in every street, in every hue that I knew,
And yet smelled the same, and felt the same,
The fragrance of life, the fragrance of love.

When the first tear flows down my cheek, I cherish You,
You surprise me, coming out just when overdue,
Yet all the while inside, never wanting to bother,
Droplets of sorrow, ones I cannot anymore gather.

When the first smile breaks across my face, I resemble You,
Though You never change, every time it seems new,
You smile through my days, and more through my nights,
A chuckle of delight, the laughter of pure joy.

When the fanfare of success arrives, I want You,
To keep me from claiming, more than my due,
As you did stay, in those moments of my failure,
From the extremities of feeling, a permanent cure.

When I walk under the moonlight, I know You,
One who makes me believe this night is true,
You never walked away, from the darkness of my life,
The beacon of my night, cajoling me into flight.

It makes me wonder, if all these things were You,
Or were they just subtle hints at what really is You,
All these things of yours, they have set me free,
But in reality, it is only YOU, that I yearn to see.

- GUPTA GHOST

Me And Myself

I fell into a slumber, the likes of it I never knew,
But was somehow sure I was more awake than I knew,
I was hearing myself definitely snoring aloud,
Yet I was alone in the house, with nobody around.

I was trying to get up, but was stuck in the sleep,
I never knew I could, so far into it creep,
Yet there I was, alive and awake, looking at myself,
Confused, who was me, and who was myself.

I felt the pain tearing through my heart, through my breath,
And I began to think, was this the end, was this death,
That creature that everybody feared, but none had seen,
That comes unheralded, and covers you with its sheen.

In a few moments though, I knew not, because I turned aside,
In my sleep, unmindful of myself, sitting there by the bedside,
Myself began to talk, of my thoughts, their deeds and the results,
The times of agony, anguish, and those incessant insults.

He tried to pry me awake with the fear of its consequence,
I knew not, for I couldn’t feel him, or hear his cadence,
As it lilted on about my days here and redemption,
About how there wasn’t any more hope of salvation.

Until I mended my ways, and walked with him, step by step,
Yet, he wouldn’t let me get up, to begin at the first step,
And thus I didn’t know if he existed at all, was he there?
I looked around, and couldn’t see him anywhere.

He walked away, the moment I got awake,
Yet the trail to him, he never did break,
And I felt compelled to him everywhere,
Though not a word more, he would again share.

He led me by my hand, though he could never hold it,
And took me to the ends of places I could never visit,
Upon his light feet, he carried me into the light,
One that blinded and never needed human sight.

And under it, I saw upon myself, all those marks I had inherited,
Marks of the pain, the sorrows that I had long since inflicted,
Marks that stained the spotless white, of the dress I never wore,
And yet, I was sure, it wasn’t me, that I had seen snore.

It wasn’t me, that had done those deeds and could still smile,
It was an aberration, one whose misdeeds could only stockpile,
And yet, there it was, a life form, alive in its heartbeat,
So much alike, so much of me, it just threw me off my feet.

I knew not when I returned, only that it was over for now,
And I kept asking myself only one thing, “how, how”?
Every single word, I saw me confess, and yet hadn’t spoken,
And yet there it was, all crystal clear and unbroken.

The voice of me, or the voice of myself, I knew not,
It neither commanded, and it surely demanded not,
It lulled me off the heavenly cliff, though slippery and steep,
And back into this world, and its myth called sleep.

- GUPTA GHOST

<--A lyrical version of my experience today morning, when I felt torn apart from myself and watched as I talked to myself. The time came to a standstill as I conversed, and discussed my whole lifetime and its experiences, and watched every scene being shredded apart to reveal the stains behind them. Stains that would never go away, but ones that could have been prevented. I watched as I saw myself turning around, twisting and tossing in my sleep, and was yet talking to myself. An experience that I hope I get to see more often.-->

Igniting Spark

When the days seem to get worser by the day,
And my resistance to failure begins to sway,
When the journey ends not, in this lifetime,
And I begin to start running out of time.

When I reach down to the bottom of my pocket,
And find nothing worthwhile that I did pocket,
When all the love has begun to wear,
And there’s not a single smile I can wear.

When friends of mine, are friends no longer,
And the list of enemies, gets to grow longer,
When they let go of me, relation by relation,
And I begin to wonder, is blood really a relation?

But then, this day is not really over,
Not until I am done, thinking it over and over,
It is the that I look, towards the igniting spark,
The One Inside, that resplendent dispeller of the dark.

- GUPTA GHOST

Cup Of Love

It is gilded not in gems and diamonds, but in its own mirth,
It is begins to fill not in youth, but long before birth,
It is filled every second by an unknown hand,
One that permeates every grain of silken sand.

It fills itself to the brim, and even more,
Yet no one has ever seen it overflow,
The more it is filled, you need it all the more,
Yet it falls back on itself, until you can go slow.

It replenishes itself without any scarcity,
And never manages to ever get empty,
It swirls around itself in merriment,
That it showers on those in detriment.

It glides down your throat, and heads for the heart,
Yet, when you search, and it is found, in every part,
It fills your brain, your mind, yet doesn’t intoxicate,
It oozes its persona, that nobody can ever replicate.

It sweeps you off your feet, and takes you into street,
And makes you utter words, you will never repeat,
It nudges you forward with every new heartbeat,
And picks you up, from your every defeat.

It belongs not to you, nor to the maker,
Yet it quenches the thirst of every partaker,
For the cup of love grows upon its own self,
Every time you share a portion of yourself.

- GUPTA GHOST

<--Inspired by the thoughts of Kahlil Gibran on Love, read it about 7 years back, but still remember the feeling it brought about, although I don't remember a single line. The next one will be about tears, although I have already written one earlier on it (Teardrop), felt that it was too short to describe the whole experience, so have taken a new angle to it.

After that one and another one on my kinda love, I shall move on to an experimental area that was opened to me by Chint2 on his blog. Although I have happened to read a lot of personal poems before, none of them inspired me to even consider writing one, but these were special, they were so intense and involving, that I decided to try some for myself as a tribute to Chint2's trademark, 'personal, involving and relentless'-->

Catharsis

Depressed beyond words, I decide to clean up my life,
I look into myself, and look at all that needs cleaning,
The sorrows, the breakups, the anger, the hatreds, my whole life,
Stands in need of a good whitewash and some forgetting.

The anger, the hatred, that redden the walls around me,
Need just some painting to blend in and begin anew,
But what of those breakups that will just not let me be,
The sticky grime of sorrows, will it ever let me subdue.

Those are but splashes, that with effort can be cleaned,
And will appear as if they have forever gleamed,
But, what of the love, splashed all across the floor,
So much so, it even overflows beneath the door.

It neither flows nor stagnates, yet leaves a stain,
One that has been relegated, for eternity to remain,
It meanders not, and endears itself to everything in touch,
It fills itself, in every corner, yet no amount is too much.

It needs a strong will to forget it, and move over,
And time I had heard, was the greatest stain remover,
That it could flush the sorrows out of the deepest recess,
And even cleanse the emotions that one cannot access.

Yet I found it ineffective against love, that merely faded,
Which gave it even more appeal, one that was jaded,
It poured itself through the cracks in the shaky ground,
And ingrained itself within, where no senses abound.

Time found itself incapable, though not for the first time,
Because stubborn love, had flooded it into a grave sublime,
My exercise was in vain, for I just couldn’t cleanse myself,
From the remains of God’s greatest stain, HIMSELF.

- GUPTA GHOST

Wings Of Fire

Destiny in its mercy, takes me along on its “Wings of Fire”,
Wings that preserve me from the temptations of demon desire,
Towards my unreached goals with fervor, these wings propel,
Maintaining my sense of judgement, when circumstances compel.

These “Wings of Fire” taught me, that in life everyone must stumble,
But only the wise, get up and walk, without even a grumble,
Tomorrow is yesterday’s child; a seed of today’s sown fruit,
My “Wings of Fire” guide me thus, through misfortune’s ugly root.

Like a stinging needle, it aches my bleeding heart,
When people strongly decline in calmness any part,
Even the words of wisdom, which resemble water on embers,
How long since they were heeded, no one ever remembers.

My “Wings of Fire” conquered for me, the enormous sadness peak,
Whereupon truth is blazingly revealed, like a lightning streak,
Wherever I go, everlasting happiness to me it brings,
While itself humbly being, a pair of fiery little wings.

- GUPTA GHOST

Utopia

At the beginning of the Golden Era was a flowery springtide,
Trumpeting and heralding aloud the prophetic call, wide,
His cascade of Love came forth flooding and gushing,
To all people, of all creeds, ceaselessly rushing.

His words, like a stream, came gently tumbling,
Saving a dejected spiritual traveller from stumbling,
His reminiscent smile constantly lights up all lives,
The merger with this Light the individual strives.

When greed, hate and anger are placid and calm,
Love and Peace serve as the indispensable balm,
The Golden Age shall lead to brotherhood and unity,
Pursuing together the winding path to Divinity.

The long promised UTOPIA of joyousness is at hand,
As the Divine Shepherd leads us to His Divine, grazing land,
Ideal sheep we must be, at the call of His invisible wand,
Awaiting the promised Era, so scintillatingly grand.

- GUPTA GHOST

Twinkling Flowers

A gardener wakes up, ready every morning, his garden to tend,
Plucking weeds, sprinkling water, there isn’t a fence he doesn’t mend,
Lord, You too are a gardener, nurturing us to our destined end,
A gardener without sleep, all our life with us you spend.

You watched over me, as I sprouted from a seed into a sapling,
You stepped aside, as I grew sturdy, gently and silently laughing,
Watching me in the centre of all glory, majestically basking,
Proud of my stature, my standing, the source without asking.

You taught me to care, and showed me how to share,
And I let, birds to rest until daybreak in their nest,
While I stand scorched under the sun’s rays, that hurt like a blade,
You told me to offer to one and all, my fruit and my shade.

We are like stars in Your sky,
Upholding Your commandments loftily high,
In the end, it doesn’t matter, if we are twinkling flowers,
Or the fragrance of stars, as long as You are ours.

- GUPTA GHOST

The Religion Of Humanity

Like all men, so busy was I in the belief, religiously involved,
That money was the pivot around which the world revolved,
At the blossoming of Peace and Love, my beliefs were marred,
To the ultimate Truth, I was rudely awakened, totally jarred.

Hindus or Muslims, Buddhists or Jains, Catholics or Protestants,
None seemed to me, to be the spiritually potential determinant,
For, when God created us, it wasn't to involve in religious fight for might,
But, to walk hand in hand along the path that is universally right.

We were to be stars in His sky, shining eternally bright,
To serve dejected spiritual travellers as a guiding Light,
The fraternity of religion and humanity, was to be continuously in sight,
To show that a bright, sunny day lies ahead of every dark night.

Finally, I was exhausted, unreasonable and absolutely desperate,
Thereby leading to ruin, and callousness, a woe begone state,
Then appeared an angelic personification, so incredibly compassionate,
Revealing to me, my friend, guide and mentor, the Lord Incarnate.

- GUPTA GHOST

Reaching Him

A weary traveller along a path forlorn,
Regularly and incessantly stumbling over incessant stones,
Mirages of enjoyment and riches shake him to the very bone,
He trudges on, unshaken but totally ragged and worn.

His greed and desires were apart and asunder torn,
Pain and pleasure with a serene and commensurate equality borne,
Offering duly to Him every duty, desire and deed,
Ridding the bedraggled path, of illusionary scrub and weed.

With a vibrant face radiant, jubilant and glowing,
The lone desire to 'REACH HIM' constantly growing,
Remembering to keep pace with the colossal spiritual tide,
Or be swept away into the world rapidly far and wide.

Enough of science, of commerce and of art,
All that you need, is but an open heart,
While 'REACHING HIM' never ever give up,
For, always in sight is the gleaming heavenly cup.

- GUPTA GHOST

Peak Of Joy

In the beginning it had been a tiring endless quest,
For, joy had eluded me more often than the rest,
Nothing, and no place could quench my joy-barren thirst,
With a longing for happiness, my every heartbeat burst.

Joy seemed to me, in the midst of the sea, an island,
My forces of joy, in the battle against sorrow, was forced to disband,
Finally joy to man, became a castle-in-the-air wonder,
Followed by the rumble of sorrow's distraught thunder.

The joyous era is preceded by the dark night of gloominess,
Like a spirited kingfisher, looking for its daily meal,
Leaving us mercilessly, to the winds of anger, an ageless pest,
I didn’t know, that looking in my heart joy would reveal.

Where the sun meets the clouds and the sky meets the sea,
Much nearer than it, is the joy in our hearts we see,
A smiling face rows me through the rapids of life’s saddest ploy,
For, contentment is the foundation of my sturdy peak of joy.

- GUPTA GHOST

Our Goal

Ever since man evolved shelterless to the raging weather,
He has been ignorantly and blindly stumbling from one birth to another,
Hidden in the deepest recess of his heart, is an unsolved mystery,
That has been inundated by religion into the vast history.

For this elixir of knowledge, there seems to be a timeless quest,
Generations behind none ever being able to amply conquest,
Birth and death are to us merely temporary guests,
With illusion and fate playing their part to the best.

The dire necessity of the ambrosia of wisdom forget we lest,
For, our karma has positioned us on a cliff's edge nest,
Leaving us mercilessly, to the winds of anger, an ageless pest,
So that our destiny can determine the result of the acid test.

If we don't perform our task with the necessary élan and aplomb,
Never forget, that closeby us is ceaselessly ticking, the rebirth bomb,
God wishes to teach each of us with another day of sunlight,
That 'OUR GOAL' is to never see another day or night.

- GUPTA GHOST

Lord Of The Universe

The mighty river bowed down in cascades of flowing water,
The sight of mountains and their nearness to God does flatter,
There's more harmony in the tunes of the wind, than you can find,
The Lord is directing this orchestra from the seat of your mind.

The chirping of birds, like an unplanned musical concert,
Their reverence to this Universal Master they assert,
The mirages and sand dunes in a life-ridden desert,
Views of the versatility of creation it does not pervert.

His Love is shown in the spiritual blossoming of a heart,
The shades of a peacock, displays His creative art,
He reflects on us life and light, with the sun's rays,
To this Lord of the Universe every devotee prays.

He listens and solves, galaxies of stellar troubles,
With every single moment in His company, your joy doubles,
God has helped to turn around the sandglass of time,
To humbly offer at His Lotus Feet this little rhyme.

- GUPTA GHOST

Long Lost Days

Gone are those sublime timeless days,
When we basked under the mellow sun's rays,
Illusion has played its wily role aloud,
Landing us all under an unpredictable cloud.

Those days with their enigmatically beautiful smile,
When HE invariably spent with us quite a long while,
Now all that is left is the ominous cloud's thunder,
For an unknown, unseen, an unnoticed blunder.

What the inimitable sages earned by silence and penance,
We have whiled away in constant prattle and nonchalance,
We pass our remorseful days in bemoaned repentance,
But Alas! Only after destiny decreed its inevitable sentence.

At turbulent times when the heavenly stars shined down,
To many we look like obnoxious strangers in town,
Despite ourselves and our yearning in all perceptible ways,
Our scorched hearts still long for those LONG LOST DAYS.

- GUPTA GHOST

Let His Will Prevail

All that I asked for, was a bit of encouragement,
And all that the world gave was, pure discouragement,
That I may realize God, I asked fervently for wisdom,
But was instead shown the world, God's own kingdom.

To conquer the world, I asked for boundless might,
My thoughts were effortlessly subdued, by the world's plight,
To express my limitless thoughts, I asked for feelings,
I was given a complex life to understand its meaning.

To merge in Him, I asked guidance from the Divine Light,
But was instead directed towards the darkest night,
All that I yearned for, He did effortlessly refuse,
So that He could fill me, with His Love so profuse.

I asked for devotion, so that I could realize Him,
I was bluntly told, that my chances were grim,
I asked God, for all that was needed by me,
I was instead conferred with all that was deserved by me.

- GUPTA GHOST

Inspired by the poem "A Creed For Those Who Have Suffered?" Author Unknown

In The Depth Of Silence

The vivid richness of human life in its luxury and ambience,
Is in virtuality poverty, without attaining the depth of silence,
Today's world of fighting and ceaseless factional violence,
Can be transformed into Love, only in the depth of silence.

In the depth of silence can be enjoyed, the melody of a bird's chirping,
In the depth of silence can be enjoyed, the wind among palm leaves swishing,
The depth of silence can enthrall, with the simplest fisherman's song,
The depth of silence can envisage a peace that lasts really long.

The numerous faiths and religions in multiplicity,
In the depth of silence reveals it's derivative simplicity,
In our deepest recess, when silence gives the clearance,
We can have access to the Divine gift of clairvoyance.

For petty sins, man makes unto himself a non-committal allowance,
But he cannot do so for the Love, present in the depths of silence,
The voice of God, in the subdued form of resilience,
Is heard from the heart, only IN THE DEPTHS OF SILENCE.

- GUPTA GHOST

Happy Days

Happy days have at long last visibly come,
Enchantments they do bring, but only quite some,
Break not into a jolly, springtide song,
For 'HAPPY DAYS' , last never so infinitely long.

Life has a wonderful cache of abundant pleasure,
But it does give back, pain in a bountiful measure,
Happiness is, but the crest of a receding wave,
Chaining mankind in it's miry whirlpool so grave.

Happiness is, but a spoke in life's gigantic wheel,
Leaving behind imprints of memories, on destiny's reel,
Happy days are, but a reflection of bygone memory lanes,
Sadness ingrained in all it's glassy panes.

Happiness is a vision through an illusionary crystal ball,
Gazing through which we see the looming deathly pall,
Happy days are as fickle as a soap bubble,
Merging back into sadness, it's eternal rubble.

- GUPTA GHOST

Facets Of Life

Uncertainties of life are, but a wee bit askance,
Man has been delighted to a rational stance,
Portraits of a desert filled life blurred at a glance,
Lilting against destiny, man took a beholden chance.

Bound by thoughts, desire and many a social edict,
The bylanes of a fallen path in life seemed to contradict,
Past actions had presupposed a prevalent verdict,
The consequences of bestial abandon he failed to predict.

Man displayed a temperament of independent countenance,
Although, in breath and bread God was his sustenance,
The reborn mirth of this paranoid world he deplored,
The ecstatic factor of redemption was explored.

A redundant man has realized lately and very sadly,
Of God that 'You are my everything I need You badly',
Friendship and Love resulted in a repentant prayer,
These two Facets of Life lead to Heaven's magnificent foyer.

- GUPTA GHOST

Everlasting Love

Like a river steadily meandering it's way,
Just as devotees with rising faith pray night and day,
To the vast, expansive ocean will be its final journey,
Devotion and steadfastness being the indispensable key.

At varying degrees it is the devotees turn for testing,
Stuck in the web of attachment, unconsciously resting,
Mankind was but a reflection in the mirror of hate,
Like puppets controlled by threads of predestined fate.

To the steady unhindered hearts it came rushing,
Abundance of Everlasting Love came forth gushing,
Piled high up was a heap of past acquired rubble,
Flowing came Love smoothening destiny into a pebble.

When each consciously considered the other a rival,
On that besmeared scene Love made it's timely arrival,
As God said in life, from above there's a ship,
The expression of EVERLASTING LOVE is FRIENDSHIP.

- GUPTA GHOST