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Life Alight

Unfolding life's mysteries with poetry, photography & ramblings

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life

Yours Sincerely

I trust you, sincerely, truly.
I know you, my heart knows you.
No distance in time and space
will change who you are to me.
To trust someone so openly
No reservations, no second thoughts.
A trust that sets alight a sense
of freedom unparalleled, you take flight.
It’s not words, no senseless displays.
Its just simply trust, so absolutely
It seems a miracle, a deep seated truth
I would have overlooked but it has a
Hold of my heart.
And so I find I am in love.

Yours sincerely,
Khushbo.

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My Hero

As I rise from the musk of hardships,
Of days gone by in hopes of brighter dawns.
I am told to wait on a hero.

Who will gather my tears,
Hold my dreams up high,
Learn the sensitivities of my heart.

Swear upon a million stars to keep my heart,
Sacred and unscathed.
Through all the grinding days to come.

It’s just, there is no hero.
No Knight in shinning Armour
headed my way.

I am just a tiered warrior,
Who has taken off her Armour to breathe;
And follow a mirage.

Rest is over, the mirage vanishes.
I ride out once again at first light,
My sword aimed ahead as I charge.

I am my one and only hero.

By Khushbo.
Copyright @Lifealight 2016.

This Moment I live

In my chase of moments
Yet to come,
I drown fixing problems
I have yet to face.

This is my moment,
My only moment
To live;
I have lost:

Life.

-Khushbo
Lifealight Copyright @2016

Oh Wise Tree

“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

-Hermann Hesse, Baume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte

Ask My Story

Every passing person carries
A story woven intricately with
Emotions, moments never forgotten.
All connected together like a web.

The thoughts that run through
Every mind that walks past me.
I wonder at the people they miss,
The life they have lived.

Things they would stop to tell,
Faces animated with the true story
Behind the narrative of what happened.
If only I had the courage to ask.

By Khushbo

Copyright @2016 Lifealight

 

Stillness of this Moment

After so many days of running
I am at peace for a few quiet moments
I sit here not worrying about
What is yet to be done
What I can and cannot achieve

Yet it seems this peaceful minute
I seek is a waste.
Every minute a text
Every second a thought
On what I should be doing next

And all I want is this one moment
Of absolute and total stillness
A moment of peace
To myself.

– Khushbo

The Illusion of Yesterday

In this Illusion
Of a day gone by
I hide a chest full
Of pearls and ashes.

Pearls of wisdom,
Earned with toil;
Ashes of fears
Gathered with every tear.

Everyday I add to my treasure
Often adding to my ashes
Elating fears I forgot to
Overcome.

Faced with a decision,
I pry open this box full of the past.
Rummage through for answers
Only to wonder…

What if my ashes are my pearls
My pearls my ashes
And all that I fear
Is all that I should wish

Perhaps
This gift of yesterday
Is not but a distraction
From the new scents
Of another day.

Maybe
I imagined every single day
Before today.

-Khushbo
Lifealight.com
@ Copyright 2015

My Dearest Life

Life is dear
In its sincerity
Cruel and painful,
Joyous and merry

The pain that sets in
Shines my joys ever
Brighter, making them
Seem like an incomparable
Treasure.

Vexed I may be at the sight
Of fate’s sharp twists and turns,
Surprised am I at my laughter
Despite the ever changing
Destiny

Yet here I stand
Again ready and willing
To fight another day
Per chance I may find
A smile..

For this single muscle flex
I risk it all, I risk my day
Try again per chance
That day may come
Where I can feel

My heart beat again…

– Khushbo
@Lifealight
Copyright 2014

Everyday, I Change.

When I arrive on this day
I find nothing as I had hoped
Everything different, yet better.

Hopes I had, drawn asunder,
New paths at every curb,
Realities that change me.

I can hardly remember
Where I was before this
Oh how I have changed!

With every new dawn,
Every new path, I found
Something new inside of me.

An awakened old soul
Hiding within, like a guide
unbeknownst to me.

Challenges, and change
Bring out the best and
burn away the worst

Seems I was born in a cocoon
which I shed every minute,
revealing wings I knew not I had.

Yesterday was a dream,
Today my transformation
And tomorrow is my flight.

Ready the runway
For tomorrow new paths
I will discover,

Flying high!

– Khushbo
©lifealight.com, 2014.

 

 

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