Spirit, art and life unfolded

After many wanderings, I return to mother's lap. Tired, I find solace in mother's lap. In distress, I seek refuge in mother's lap. Shaken to my roots, I cling to mother's lap. When arrows of misfortune hit, I flee to mother's lap. Lonely and deserted, I find comfort in mother's lap. In life's raging storms, I anchor myself in mother's lap. When my heart sings melancholic tunes, I nestle in mother's lap. When hopes seem lost, I retreat to mother's lap. In this world, mother's lap is the greatest sanctuary. There, I unravel the mysteries of life and learning. I recite the Vedas, and revisit the timeless wisdom of tatva gnana. Mother's lap is the seat of learning, a sacred hermitage for enlightenment.

Graced by morning's rays, night rubs eyes of sleep, Lost traces of sleep's caress. What a beautiful creation, What recreation do we need? It's all sleeping, waking, An interval before final sleep, Never to weep, always keep Beauty's deep.

Cross-legged, eyes closed, I seek Not worldly pleasures, nor heavenly delights unique No golden showers, nor sensual indulgences sway But a simple, untainted wish for silence and peace forever Unlimited and unbound, though essence of the divine shedding impurities of life,, Yet I yearn, lost in Maya's sea That's the crux

Copy, paste, the link's in the sink Washing down, a flunk to think Wasting no ink, the words just blink Blink, blink, you shrink Here's my interpretation of the poem: "Digital Downfall" is a thought-provoking commentary on the consequences of excessive digital engagement. The opening lines, "Copy, paste, the link's in the sink," suggest the mindless consumption and dissemination of information online. "Washing down, a flunk to think" implies that this digital indulgence can lead to mental stagnation and a lack of critical thinking. "Wasting no ink, the words just blink" may symbolize the ephemeral nature of online content and the fleeting attention span of digital consumers. The final line, "Blink, blink, you shrink," is particularly striking. It could be interpreted as a warning that excessive digital engagement can lead to a shrinking of one's perspective, empathy, and ultimately, one's sense of self. Overall, the ...

Double down, double down, As the moment's whittling down. Mow, mow, mow, the energy grows, Throw, throw, throw, and let it show. Cut, cut, cut, through the noise and pain, Gut, gut, gut, and let the emotions reign. Fret, fret, fret, with every nervous beat, Strut, strut, strut, and let your spirit compete. Let, let, let, the music move your soul, Beat, beat, beat, and let the rhythm make you whole. Mew, mew, mew, the whispers of your heart, Show, show, show, and let your true self start. Grow, grow, grow, in every single way, And let the world see the best of you each day.

Whatever I do, I'm reminded of my mortality. Yet, surrounded by thoughts of impermanence, I take bold steps. But progress seems elusive, like one step forward, two steps back. Sometimes, all seems pointless to me. Yet, paralyzed by this thought, I don't become still. I engage with all, actively and free. But the feeling persists, a constant reminder to see. No one will dictate what's true, What to do, or what to eschew. Yet, in this quest, I'm plagued, Tormented by the thought that's engraved: Consciousness that all is in vain, A purposeless existence, an endless refrain. Trapped in this cycle, I remain, Haunted by the void, with no escape to gain. I rage, I frustrate, then calm descends. I question why the storm, the turbulent ends. It's all pointless, I conclude, and seek to break free. Yet, detachment eludes me. I'm drawn back, again and again, To the base, the familiar pain. I revisit the turmoil, the emotional strife. Trapped in this cycle, I yearn to s...