Calm

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

I would not call this Happiness.
I would not call this Joy.
I can call this Realisation
Which Time cannot destroy.

This State of resting in Quiet –
With no battles in Thought;
This State of Being, quaint and calm,
Which Time itself has wrought.

Quiet moments filled with Wisdom,
Mingled with Memory,
Create this quaint smile, calm the heart,
Freeing the essence of Me.

Sometimes Doubts laugh – as is their wont –
But Experience sings
In my ear, unmasking these Doubts
As vain, trivial things.

All that is meant as Destiny
Shall be what finally stays;
Then matter not cold, moonless nights,
Nor vacant sunless days.

2nd February
8p.m.

Believe

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

I have given up before.
Then risen again.
I had given up again
And somewhere out of the pain
Came the resurrection.
The belief is not that everything will be okay.
The belief is different now.

I understand what the trick is.
It is all a fait-accompli.
I surrender to You:
God, Destiny, the Powers That Be.
I believe whatever will be, will be.

So in knowing that I have loved
And, oh, so ardently,
I have lived and seen happiness.
If things are not a constant
Why do I cringe and weep?
Why do I lament the loss of things that were never mine?
Did I even think Life would best the rolling of Time?

Then happiness is relative and fleeting.
I should perhaps make most of our meeting.
I tried to steal happiness from mundane souls,
When all I had to do was give up on it.
Doing so made me happy.

Happiness, I find, cannot be bought.
A grey man once said, I was meant to live this life,
And that, I believe, is an encouraging thought.

23rd January
5:43am

Eve

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Carols croon soft in my ear this early morning,
Though as usual my heart does not wish to sing;
The noose of life has tightened and I need the knife,
Which I threw away to prevent preconceived strife.

How ironical that I should need that blade now!
My world and I are being swept in the thick flow
Of superficiality, progress and money –
A trapped, dying fly in a golden vat of honey!

So some friends threw me a rope to help me escape;
But it snagged on my neck and each pull felt like rape;
If I struggle a bit they think me ungrateful,
Though it is to my own self I’m being unfaithful!

I am caught either way and trust has long since died;
Old entreaties to God have also been denied;
So Jesus descends into the world on this day,
But I can’t hope, can’t sing, can’t rise, can’t sink, can’t pray.

8:45am
24th December