I wait my turn
Patience
As life streams by
Finding neither
Moment nor desire
To enter the stream
Faith in
Fate or serendipity
To sweep me into the fray
Content when
Reality
Makes no such demand
I wait my turn
Patience
As life streams by
Finding neither
Moment nor desire
To enter the stream
Faith in
Fate or serendipity
To sweep me into the fray
Content when
Reality
Makes no such demand
Oh Lord
Universal father and mother
Burn away the illusions of existence
Three friends
Astride two wheels
Alive in a single moment
Dozens of eyes
Focussed on the game
One pair finds the lens
With a Mona Lisa smile
The only face
I can’t quite read
There is a peace here
In this mingling of muslims
And infidels
Inspired I suppose
In equal parts
By awe and reverence
Faith and the appreciation
For beauty
And while nothing at all
About this place
In the heart of Old Delhi
Reminds me of home
The tenor of this moment
The tranquility of it
Is mindful of a Sunday stroll
Along English Bay
On a fine summer’s eve
With fellow revelers
In the ambrosia
Of existence
The beauty of an architectural space
That is not improved by the presence of people
Is an expression of the architect’s ego
Rather than the purpose of their efforts
They mill about
Tourists, like myself
And not like myself
Clogging the frame
Until I realize
The shot is about them
As much as it is
About the mosque
I take a moment
Just to sit and be
In my own thoughts
My own body
Reflect on the emotions
All bottled up
Which fill me to overflowing
When they come
Leave the sluice gates open
Don’t restrict the flow
Let them wash over me
Allow them to take what they will
The torrent is hard
And full
A tumult of the repressed
When the tide finally ebbs
Walk the flood path
Take stock of the flotsam and jetsam
Retrieve what is dear and useful
Leave whatever is not
After thanking it
For the lessons
Insight comes
But not without its reckonings
And with these comes healing
I peer into Islam
From shadow to shadow
Backlit by misconception
Misunderstanding
And just plain ignorance
But with open heart
Open mind
And intention
To pursue
The illumination of insight
Pigeons in a hot sky
Morning comes
Molten sun
Casts sepia silhouettes
Surreal beauty
Wrought by an atmosphere
Fraught with death
Home in a couple of days
Where battered lungs
Complain for another week
Through the market streets
They carry precious cargo
Enigmatic tale