a little glass of water for all seekers on the path.
you who seek the journey,
look upon the path.
see how the bewildered falter, intoxicated
and can no longer differentiate
between the path and one another.
& look at how the lovers
keep justifying to each other
the beauty of their love-palace:
mosaiced with their own misery,
built with their own hands, eyes and mouths,
painted passive-aggressive with regret
just another house of cards
with slightly different furniture.
witness another infatuation
witness how each one inevitably
fades, like a forgotten sketch
penned with deliberation on
some aimless corner-cafe’s
like mere reflections of
each others’ reactions
that gradually bloat,
their love begins its gradual waning.
like scars infected with
neglect and selfishness,
their love toxifies and exhumes only sulfur.
but the true lover only seeks
that path which leads away from such suffering:
the same highway kabir, rumi
and the buddha had walked; like many before them,
like many after them. & they try their hardest
to pull their sangha
out of the obstacles on the path:
be it rose-gardens, snake-pits or
huts offering endless rest and masala tea
maybe even some sharab on the side;
they try and try
and often, they fail.
but the path must be traveled!
& here is where makhfi suffers,
trying to be a true lover
with only half a pint
of diluted equanimity:
where they apply love, watch how it wilts
like an atrophied corpse
falling on bewildered ears
or perhaps ears that just speak
a different tongue.
you can see their equanimity
beginning to falter,
you witness their tower, hit
by the wrath of lightning
& now the fool crawls
the rest of their path like a
missing bits of spine.
seeker, learn from the patience of the spider:
observe her acceptance as she spins
with unconditional love, an impermanent web,
Watch how she keeps perfecting it
no matter how horrible the damage.
with such patience, one learns
to truly love
purely & without condition.
in times of anguish, remember
in times of contentment, remember
to go back to your breath
to go back to your body
& remember the inevitability of anicca.
the wisdom of impermanence
is a spiral covering your world.
there is no shame in faltering;
strike another match
be the spider!
go rebuild the broken shilas that
kept your tower standing amidst this
sea of suffering.
find the robe of equanimity
that you’d lost
on your own streak of bewilderment.
mend it with love
wear it with awareness
keep on trying.
& if your love overwhelms,
channel it and
push that rock up the mountain.
seeker, do not be worried of your destination.
unlike sisyphus, our tragic hero,
actually has an ending,
and some call it nirvana.