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Life Alight

Unfolding life's mysteries with poetry, photography & ramblings

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Song of Silence

Lying in the lyrics of silence
Are many words left unsaid.
Many truths left hidden.

Yet the strongest words
The loudest answers;
Lie here in simple silence.

The deepest yearnings,
The heaviest hopes,
This fortress of broken hearts
Hides many emotions.

If only you would listen
To the whispers that no one heard,
Where so many stories lie buried.

Yearning to be sung aloud.

By Khushbo

Copright Lifealight @2017.

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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

Waiting

Everyday seems I am reminded
Of the time, the minutes, the seconds passing
As the clock ticks, never stopping.

In a time where there are no worries,
No stops, no heartbreaks, no turns.
I would like to stop and breathe.

I would like to see hope come true,
I would like to see it all be worth it,
I would like for time to stop.

And not ask of me to worry
About the next moment,
The next day, the next month.

Waiting to live, just for today.
For me alone.

– Khushbo
Lifealight Copyright @2016

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

Can’t Help It

I should be happy
I should be ecstatic
I am just not

I haven’t seen your face
Since I was once innocent
I hardly remember our last meeting

All I remember above all else
Is you just weren’t there
When I needed you most

So joyously as you announce
Your presence here just for me
All I can think is

I don’t need you anymore.

Your every word seems but a lie
I neither trust it nor do I want it
All I want is

No more words; lies from you.

-Khushbo 

Could be

A world of possibilities lies before me
Counting hours, minutes, seconds
Life churns on one step at a time.

Everything is imagined and created
for a tomorrow unknown to me
A place that: will be.

I lie awake wondering at the life
that seems so long ago, almost a dream
and everything it taught me

Narrowing pathways lie ahead
waiting for me to decide my fate
Every step a turn, a mistake, a victory.

I do wonder at all that lies ahead.
All that will be.
That could be.

-Khushbo

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