The Giant

The majestic giant,

Leans against the skyline; defiant!

Inspiring awe & ardour,

Across the timeline; in splendor,

The weathered precipice,

Looms the magnificent edifice.

Unconquered by man or beast,

In time alone...is its tryst!

Compels a second glance,

That overwhelming expanse.

An unshakable thrill; a stirring,

Of an awe filled resilience pulsating,

Courses through every vein,

Makes every hair stand on end.

Aware....awareness of another being,

Knowing ...recognising what the eye (I) is seeing.

Behind the I (eye),

Beneath THE LIE,

Another giant says, "Hi!"

A transient glimpse, of that mystified,

Myth that every race has tried,

To bring into reality,

yet forced into everyday functionality,

Becoming a myth; living a triviality!

A fairy tale becomes the giant,

Like Gullivar & the Liliputians,

Hacked down & held down by Liliputian ropes,

Of hate, fear, shame, annhilism & dope.

Thus the Giant goes off to sleep,

Only to awaken when another greets,

Only to be sent back,

Convincing oneself ....its just that!

One beautiful unexpected moment,

To be experienced, maybe because God must be present,

Around that event or place,

So go on and construct a holy place,

To flag this place down, like a bar,

Where you can consume & forget who you are,

Transiently, momentarily if it may,

Awaken the giant from its hideaway,

And bring moments of clarity in its sway,

And a LIFE!......not worthy of throwing away!

-Shruti

Madults

They are scary; be wary of adults.

They are an abominable cult. 

Its an irony, 

They find kids funny, 

When they are the joke's butt!

The ‘Happy’ river.

If you were not so full of trash,

Your saunter would have more panache.

If you were not so dark and dense,

In you I would have seen reflections

Of those gulmohars or the fence,

That run along your banks,

Spiking the perimeter, holding hands,

Walking along your long stretch,

Changing form and character, like out of a sketch,

Made by an amorous painter,

On an evening longing for that lost lover.

If you were not so trashed,

Those scraps of plastic and discards,

Would have been flowers and Mallards,

Floating in your serene flight,

Rippling and swirling in your delight.

Tumbling and tripping, hopping and skipping,

You go on yet… moving,

Moving … as is your nature.

Conforming to nature’s natural feature.

Moving a few,

Yet the unmoved zoo,

Of 'civilized' creatures.

Elegant and serene,

Even in that extreme

Demeaning treatment of you,

You seem not to have one grudge to pursue.

You revel in your flow,

Ebb and surge and glow,

In being yourself true,

Doing what you were meant to do,

Rise high or …low,

As seasons shower their love,

On you as they go by,

You just be.. and reply,

Symbolizing the eternal truth,

Love only needs 'to be'.. to exist.

If we only had cared,

You would have remained,

The ‘happy’ river that you were named!

-          Shru.