On,The Passing

They say,disappointment,defeat,delusions,
Are nothing but futile emotions,
Life is short,even shorter, the breath,
All cease to exist,at the touch of death.

Every little word or action,
Leads us to our inevitable execution,
Each season of love and care,
We cannot help but with death share.

Health,happiness and being well,
A matter of time,before the toll of the Bell,
The restful night,but a reminder,
Guests,we are,before the final departure.

The mist,dew and the rainfall,
Tears of Heaven for our impending  funeral.
Why then this craving for life to lengthen?
Why,when lovers torn asunder,are hearts broken?

Why are eyes laden with brittle dreams?
Why is peace, drowned in the silent screams?
Why do we have to shelter a soul,
Battered,bruised, riddled with many a hole?

Why couldnt days be bathed in glory?
Each moment,an eternally blissful story?
Why is the moon's throne in darkness wrapped?
Why are the stars,in the clutches of the night,trapped?

Why isn't life sweet,if its short and fleeting?
Why is it's happiness hasty,in retreating?
Why,then does it seem to stretch so long?
Why,is it not a never ending melifluous song?
                                                       Chandni.

Soul Garden

The void is a space,
Seeking your eternal grace,
A garden waiting to be born,
With the dawn of a pristine morn.

Let the soul garden in you,
Break forth into a cluster of hue,
Let drops of peace shimmer in each bloom,
Purge your heart of the seeping gloom.

For,the void is a space,
Seeking your eternal grace,
Wishing you to plant a sapling,
A hope laden tree in the making.

Birds of freedom would alight and sing,
Be it summer,autumn,winter or spring.
Its a void, with the vision of a blossoming space,
Awaiting the gardener and his eternal grace.
                                                                         Chandni.