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Life Alight

Unfolding life's mysteries with poetry, photography & ramblings

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soul

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

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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

 

Illustrious Life

ballroom dance3

Life is an illustrious ball
With men and women dancing tall.
Sometimes together in orbit;
Often in undeniable repulsion.

None the less it all goes:
Round and round like clockwork,
Days changing to night and
The nights awakening to mornings.

Here we are: where we started.
Having twirled in a circle,
Now back to where we started.
Take a bow try again.

– Khushbo
©lifealight.com, 2014.

In the Morning of Life

the morning of life 2
Picture By: Khushbo

In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,
And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin,
When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own,
And the light that surrounds us is all from within;
Oh, it is not, believe me, in that happy time
We can love as in hours of less transport we may: —
Of our smiles, of our hopes, ’tis the gay sunny prime,
But affection is warmest when these fade away.

When we see the first glory of youth pass us by,
Like a leaf on the stream that will never return;
When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high,
First tastes of the other, the dark flowing urn;
Then, then is the moment affection can sway
With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew;
Love nursed among pleasures is faithless as they,
But the Love born of sorrow, like sorrow, is true!

In climes full of sunshine, though splendid their dyes,
Yet faint is the odour the flowers shed about;
‘Tis the clouds and the mists of our own weeping skies
That call the full spirit of fragrancy out.
So the wild glow of passion may kindle from mirth,
But ’tis only in grief true affection appears; —
And even though to smiles it may first owe its birth,
All the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears.

– Thomas Moore

Your Pain

pain

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break,
that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life,
your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard,
is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, And the cup he brings,
though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which
the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

– Khalil Gibran

Invictus

Inviction

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

– William Ernest Henley

Fly with Me

You say I am mad
I say you’re deaf
I dance to the music
You don’t hear it
My soul follows it

You draw lines
I erase all mine
Fortress of walls
You call it a Palace
I call it prison

My Palace
is under the sun,
feel it in the breeze
where the music lives
and nightingale sings

Free and unbound
my soul flies far and wide
the wind under my wings
I see it now, why can’t you?

O self imprisoned soul!
set yourself free,
hear the music
fly with me!

– Khushbo

When I Die

When I die

When my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
I am missing this world

Don’t shed any tears
don’t lament or
feel sorry
I’m not falling
into a monster’s abyss

When you see
my corpse is being carried
don’t cry for my leaving
I’m not leaving
I’m arriving at eternal love

When you leave me
in the grave
don’t say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind

You’ll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down

It looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
When the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed

Have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
Why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human

Have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
Why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well

When for the last time
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place, no time.

-Rumi

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