The band of colors...

" If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

  If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

  If you can meet with triumph and disaster

  And treat those two imposters just the same; "

A dream is one big candle.

A candle whose flame is kept alive by the warmth of the sun, by a burning desire in the heart, by the smouldering fire in the belly, by a blazing passion to perform and leave a scorching trail behind...

A trail that could scorch the blades of grass and leave footprints behind for the posterity to follow...

But a torrential rain can extinguish even the fiercest of fires...

What happens to the dream then ?

Does it ever realize ?

Or does it die a premature death ?

Deep within I know that the fate of the dream is beyond me. I'd rather try and keep the candle burning and hope that it holds its forte against the rain and makes life a kaleidoscopic odyssey. For only the sun and rain in unison can make a band of colors appear stretching over the wild blue yonder...

A band of colors that is an outcome of the dream and the theme for my poem...

A thin band stretched across the immeasurable,

As the child looked on with an unknown mirth

Gazing at the wonder from his rocking cradle

Unaware of what that stripe was worth.

All the riches of the world that man desired

Would pale in the contrast of its illuminance,

All issues of the world that man measured

Would fade in the bearing of its significance.

Each colour that stood out in the infinity

Had its own poignant tale to narrate,

On the facts of life and its vitality

That no gold or silver could ever satiate.

And the transfixed eyes continued staring

Unmindful of the truth that the vision could imply

That life was worth celebrating,

Was the harbinger of the rainbow in the unbounded sky.

The eternal song...

" Music is poetry in the air "

Music is a consummate experience...

An experience that gives a cherubic soul to the universe, unfettered wings to the mind,

an unbounded flight to imagination, unconditional love to the heart and an unparalleled charm and gaiety to life and to everything...

Music is like a sliver of the moon in the dark nights of your life.

And the moonlight pervaded my soul on one such night and overwhelmed the heart in such a manner that while penning the lyrics of " The Eternal Song ", all the sorrows seemed to have been muted forever by the infinite power of Music...

The clouds swayed in the moonlit night

Intoxicated by her music;

While the stars shone with all their might

On the face, so cherubic.

That the moon’s beauty paled before her’s

And she hid behind the mirthful haze;

So divine a song, made her wonder

So beautiful a mortal, made her gaze.

And the trees awoke from their slumber

Entranced by the melody, the winds did bring;

No nightingale, could they remember

Such music, to them, ever did sing.

And the waves rolled on and rocked the shores

Dancing to her melody;

As they for centuries, or even more

Had never felt this ecstasy.

And her rhapsody quelled the sailors’ fears

Stunned by the tides in that lyrical night;

Their joys unbounded, for land was near

Her music being their guiding light.

And I stood as if a spell was cast

On me and my fatigued mind;

For as long, as would the harmony last

No sorrow, my heart would ever find.

Keep Running...

" Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up.

  It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed.

  Every morning a lion wakes up.

  It knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death.

  It doesn't matter whether you're a lion or a gazelle; 

  When the sun comes up, you'd better be running. "

This African proverb has been a great inspiration.

The gazelle has survived the odds.

Now it moves to a different terrain with different challenges but keeps the same hope.

That someday, the gazelle will be a lion. But it will still have to run. And keep running...

Fifty yards to the crossbar, he stopped in his tracks

As racing thoughts outpaced his leaden feet,

"Should I pass the ball, or should I hold back,

And keep running till there's ground underneath."

And he chose to run and dribbled past

The swarthy knights decked in ebony hues,

He was now in sight of the goal line at last

With the ball steadily glued onto his shoes.

And sixty thousand voices joined in chorus,

"Keep running till you've reached the goal."

Before a stab of steel impaled the dermis

And floored him with a deadly foul.

With bleeding feet he started running again

And this time, with him, raced a thousand souls,

As he shot ahead of the armored men

And curled the ball into the abandoned goal.