An Empty Bottle in an Empty Box

Frustration and disappointment

Raged like storm

Ravaging my heart

They flowed down,

From my eyes like tears

Leaving me like-

An empty bottle in an empty box.

Wild excitement like a wave

Dashed me against the rock

Of convention to conform,

Leaving me like-

An empty bottle in an empty box.

Darkness of ignorance

Clouded my senses,

With dark shades of doubt

Filling me with anger

Of vengeful resentment;

Until my cry reverberated

In me and all around,

Leaving me just like-

An empty bottle in an empty box.

Now, with my ability

Rooted in experience abound,

I admire as I can discern

Myriad hues and shades

Within me and around;

Often tinged with smile and regret

Resulting from the decision I make,

Echoing my laughter or a soulful hum

Leaving me like-

An empty bottle in an empty box.

Gradually growing aware of

Life and its various facets,

And the elements it’s made from;

 Its fragrance and its sound

Originate from the Artist’s palette,

Making me appear and blend

With all that is around;

And Filling me with the ease of calm,

Just like an-

An empty bottle outside the box….

Aknowledgement:

Video Source: Benze - Travelling without moving...
                                     Live version: https://ozorafestival.eu/

The Eye Balls

I was walking to the playfield with a ball in my hand

I recalled the story of doing justice by blinding a man:

A man wandered into their rival tribe’s terrain

Where a tribal accosted him, whom he blinded

In his frantic effort to save his life and escape

The chieftain’s men foiled his attempt,

Took him to the chieftain for his command;

Who, to the rival’s laments did not pay heed.

And ordered his men to blind him instead.

While dribbling the ball with my right hand,

I closed my left eye to view the ball

Volley between the ground and my hand.

I repeated the act with my right eye and left hand

To realise both my eyeballs viewed the world

Quite differently from one another.

Ironically, they could not sight each other

Yet, they viewed the entire world together.

Our belief in “Eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth”

…Will allow vengeance to prevail

Over love, compassion , integrity and truth…

When I placed the ball on the podium

Story of a tribal and a mendicant

Flashed in the eyes of my mind;

Tribal approached the meditating mendicant

Only to find the mendicant’s left eye bleed.

He gouged out his left eye with his knife

And placed it at the sage’s feet

Only to see the sage’s right eye also bleed.

The tribal once again paid heed

By placing his right eye at the sage’s feet.

The tribal’s unflinching faith and self-confidence

Allowed his compassion prevail and help the mendicant.

Even the mendicant acknowledged

The tribal's selfless act forsaking both his eye for him,

Thus making the tribal’s act too noble to define...

The Dish

Weathering the raging storm

He staggered towards a shack

At the end of the forest,

After a torturous walk too long.

The shack’s resident, an old woman

Opened the shack’s door to let him in.

To the stranger drenched to the bone,

She gave him her rags to put on.

After drying his wet clothes by the stove,

She offered him supper of a dish

She for herself had made.

Visitor had the food she offered

To assuage his pangs of hunger.

To him, the dish simply tasted divine.

Outside the shack, he spent the night,

He woke up and left for his destination

Before the sun could rise and shine.

One fine day, the woman had a visitor

A messenger from the weary traveler.

He had invited her to his abode;

To cook the dish he had adored.

Old woman accepted his request;

And visited his house as his guest.

On arriving at the house of the traveler

She was amazed by its palatial splendour.

She entered the royal kitchen in all humility;

To keep her promise without the usual ditty

She carefully cooked the dish for the royalty;

And served it to him in all simplicity

Recalling the scrumptious taste of the dish

His Highness picked and ate a large morsel of it;

Only to wince at the very bite

And asked the old woman,

“Why doesn’t it taste as good as it did that night?”

The woman, in all humility, bowed;

While accepting the King’s grouse.

To the king, she then sullenly replied:

“Your Highness, hunger is the best sauce

That makes millet bread with chutney of grass

Taste divinely delicious to a hungry mouth….”

The Glass Jug

The Glass Jug

I picked up my jotter pen

And signed the register of attendance

A young boy with gait quite confident,

Approached me with an empty glass jug in hand,

And asked me, “I need to wash my hand,

Can you lead me to the water tap, gentleman.”

Looking at the empty glass jug in the lad’s hand

I frowned at the busy shop attendant,

And led the lad to the corner of the shop

To pour water from a can into the jug.

The lad politely asked me for the glass jug,

“Gentleman, I will use it responsibly.” He said.

I refused and poured water on his hands instead.

“Boy, you see, the jug is made of glass.” I said.

Smiling, he thanked me and left the shop.

I carefully placed the glass jug on a table

And quietly returned to my post;

To stack the Attendance, Complaint,

Suggestion and Visitors’ Register books

At my, the guard’s desk top.