Poetry

He said creating a will 
to become whole Being, 
was more important. Spacing of thoughts 
can wait. Fear was there 
all the time. 
 
Life had been loaned on a timeless impermanence, 
an in-between death and death 
Light was being and dark was being. 
There was no god, no icon 
only shades. 
 
Castaway on a lonely stretch, 
you tune in to the rising pitch of cuckoo. 
It stops for a while. A deliberate pause. 
Again more resolutely it rises 
to measure the awakening! 
 
A soul caged in body wants to fly away, 
on an austere journey; solemn and relentless 
transcending the misprints of life. 
The matrix and it secret will be out 
after a short while!