"There's No God"

So minuscule - the eyes can't see it.
The key to life lies within.
Not all visitors does it inside permit.
Though holy, labelled the original sin.

What happens next - again unseen.
The growth is mad. Old clothes can't be worn.
Welcomed by people happy and keen,
Nine months later, a new life is born.

So minuscule - the eyes can't see it.
From it, journeys of death begin.
Rarely people survive after being hit.
Millions lose, only a thousand win.

It cares not if it's an old man or teen.
Spreads gloom in hearts, and hides the dawn.
No matter how strong one has been,
When the time arrives, what's gone is gone.

The invisible becomes visible.
The visible becomes invisible.
These mysteries mind can comprehend not.
The invincible becomes vincible.
The vincible becomes invincible.
For, the Universe itself grew from a tiny dot.

Marvels I see,
of miracles I hear.
The heart feels glee
as well as fear.

I ask you queries.
You negatively nod.
And it really worries (me)
when you say, "There's no God".

Existence

The cherry tree in full blossom,
Clings to Mother Earth's generous bosom.
Showering the land with its beautiful flowers.
It creates a spectacle of fallen stars.

Big yellow sunflowers dance in the field,
Reminding me of the paintbrushes angels wield.
A cornucopia of beauty wherever I see,
It tells me that nature holds the key.

The ever-abundant splendid stream,
Teaches me to have many a dream.
I take a dip in its pure water.
It is Mother Earth's loving daughter.

I become one with nature,
Suddenly remembering my mediocre stature.
As Dasan* says I'm just an ant,
That runs atop a guava plant.

I love this world,
To which I was hurled.
I cherish this life,
Despite all the strife.

I think not of sorrow,
I know it would vanish morrow.
I can soar high,
Without heaving a sigh.

I'll stay alive forever.
I'm Existence's lover.
-Mr.ClAiRvOyAnT



*Dasan: Refers to the Tamil poet Bharathidasan who said "We human beings living on this Earth are similar to the small ant that runs on top of a guava fruit. Hence, we need to be humble".

God, The Omnipresent

I know I can't write poetry,
When I start thinking.
My thoughts don't rouse the poet in me.
My love for poetry does it.

Many an hour have I spent making futile efforts,
To summon the poet within.
I had no clue about him,
About his abode as well.

I sought him exhausting my intellect,
I employed logic to detect him,
He remained elusive as always.

By hook or crook I wanted to know him.
My deceptive ways failed to show him.
I dropped my vanity.
I lost my sanity.
I pondered his presence in absolute serenity.

I cried to see him.
I died to feel him.
I pleaded him that I needed him.
I discovered that I was in love with him.

Silencing my intellect,
I offered oodles of love to him.
I found him,
I went around him.

My love! My soul!
Without you I'm not whole.
The god in me is that poet.
Holding his hand I'll sing many a duet.
-Mr.ClAiRvOyAnT