A cloudy descent
Casting a shroud
On grand maidens
Of nature, standing tall
Watching over the plains
Keeping cold winds at bay
Ragged peaks
Measuring up to the alpine
Way of life, a soul quenching
Trek above the tree line
Leaving the forests of thoughts
At the bases of mountains below
That cradle, the magic called life
Sprung from single celled
Ancestors, standing the test of time
Living in an invisible mist
From which they jump
Into temporary hosts
Who fight to regain
Balance of health
Walking a tenuous line
Looking for that drop of ambrosia
Conferring immortality
That some thoughts possess
Lost in the haze of the mist
Are memories of yore
A heavy yoke for some
As they till the soil of the present
Dreaming of a harvest of happiness
Praying to the rain gods
For a shower of his gifts
To cushion future blows
Forgetting the rain drop
That faithfully falls in the dark mist
Cued by the first tears
Rolling down a newborn's wrinkled cheeks
Before they regain
Their smooth and shiny state
Is the drama of life
Which is alive and well
It does not seek a bounce
From happy faces
And not dragged down
By the weary and forlorn
Extremes are native
Only to the mind
Which is a mist
That must clear
If the raindrop feeding
Life is to be seen
Before its eventual
Dissolution into many forms
Living in the shadows
Of the all encompassing self image
Whose reflections send
Ripples sinking into the psyche
A vast lake whose depth
Is too shallow
To take in even a drop
Of the golden mist which
Provides life’s sustenance
Watched over by an
Ivory cradle in the sky
A soothing white light
In an otherwise
Dark and dreamless sky
A sight one must behold
With a rock like tenacity
As one waits
For dawn to break
Lighting up new perspectives
On a life that’s always been divine
Drops of which
Slip out of the high mind
Leaving a scented trail
Only the astute pick up
As they are homeward bound
After weary days of
Planting plastic trees
Expecting to taste real fruit
The raindrop that falls
Like a seed
Needs fertile ground
To sprout again
Not on hardy ground
Of barren hearts
And eyes that don’t see
Beyond the misty haze
Wrought by the suffering
Dragged into the world
From the temporary
Reaches of the conscious mind
Unaware of the greater heights
Spawning a new line of thought
One that merges
Into what we truly seek
Lives within as
Just as life of a tree
Is stuffed into a hard acorn
That rolls and rolls
Till it falls into a motherly lap
Of soil rendered wet by mist
With the power to unlock
The giant within
Whose fruits are a magnet
For birds from afar
Setting migratory patterns
Living on for generations
Seeking refuge from
The searing heat
Of the sun, drying up
The world, pushing
The treasures of the soul
Further out of reach
Like a tree, the soul doesn’t move
We fly away from it
Propelled to empty heights
By vortex of desires
That spin clouds
Sans the elusive raindrop
That sprouting seeds crave
Remaining silent and voiceless
Hidden just out of sight
Tenaciously drilling roots into earth
But aiming for the sky
With the hope of spreading branches
To capture raindrops
That fall in a seasonal shower
Also experienced within
When the eyelids cloud
The blinding worldly vision
Changing under a bright blue sky
Inner visions are lesser shadows
When one can see the world
Worldly joys play second fiddle
To the hum of the joy within
The mystical raindrop in the mist
Enlivens the sights outside
While providing succor
To the seekers of inner joy
-N. Seshadri
