no matter

no matter

how we justify

our silly actions

the consequences

are for us alone

to bear

to cry over

connect the dots

backwards

our own actions 

come to light

blaming others

a weak cover-up

the point is there is money

there is money

but the bulk in a few accounts

and it spills

for the wrong reasons

quenching the thirst

of the un-thirsty

satiating the hunger 

of the un-hungry

clothing the clothed

while the thirsty

the hungry

 the un-clothed

remain unheeded

also for the wrong reasons

simply
that 

they aren't glamorous

they aren't glittery
they aren't grand
in appearance

the point is

there is money
but spilled
for the wrong reasons

Each one's own

He saw the world

as a garden, and

they found it weird

that he dug, planted,

watered, weeded.

They didn't find him

reading books

and they thought

he was stupid.

He looked at them,

and he thought

how lazy they were;

all they did was sit

and read books.

“Look at him!”

How shabby!”

“Look at their hands!

How smooth!

Never worked!”

But, there are gardens,

and there are books;

they both exist! We 

choose. One. Maybe both.

Something else, perhaps?

Choice.

Perspective.

The mind’s eye -

it perceives; it

makes meaning
from its own reality.

Each one's own...

you are in the best part of me

I have had you with me since 2004.

That was the year you were conceived

in my head. A year later, you were born...

my first chapter. One chapter at a time,

you grew and then stopped growing.

Life changes happened. Drastic changes.

They have kept me preoccupied ... in ways

incomparable to the way you kept me preoccupied,

but I had to make hard choices. My love for you

remains in the depth of my heart, but to keep life alive

these preoccupations are necessary. My heart must go on

beating for the hearts around me, in need of me; and also

for you to reside in safely, for you to grow to your full potential,

till your last chapter is complete. I wait to clothe you in finery,

your copies to reach many hands. I wait for you to be the reason

they smile, the reason their souls are stirred. Do not think

you're forgotten, my dear, you're in the best part of me,

where empathy flourishes. With each beat of my heart,

each drop of compassion oozing out, you are nurtured,

you are secure. Stay calm and you shall be in my arms some day. 

my experiential learning

My experiential learning:

Age isn't a determinant 

of our choices and actions in life. 

It isn't an indicator of our maturity either. 

We do what we do, we are who we are, 

shaped by our lived experiences. 

We might claim we are independent, 

but we really inter-are. 

Is it?

They say it isn't yours

You claim it is

And I stand in between

Isn't and is

The fence

If I jump into 'it is'

I shall do so pleasurably

filled with deep respect

honouring you forever

If I jump into 'it isn't'

I shall do so disappointingly

Emptied of feelings

thinking of you no more

But for now, I'm on the fence

I know not the truth

I know not the lie either

You must tell me

I must hear from you

Will you?

ask not

what stuff am i made of

you might ask

and there’d be no answer

to that

we’re not made of stuff

we are who we are

we become who we become

evolving

as we change

(impermanent)

except 

for the bones

and blood

and all other organs

that you and i

both

are made of

biologically 

(also impermanent)

everything else

shaped

by what we experience

which may not be

for me 

what it is 

for you

ask not