The backstage curtain keeps hidden
Surprises that aren’t forbidden
If eyes can turn back
One may find them hidden in a sac
Tied by threads from a good life led
Everything else cornered by time, which has fled
Leaving one with the pouch protected by a knot
With its promises, remembrance of anything beyond is shot
An inventory isn’t kept
To do that it would take a trained adept
Who leads a good life by another measure
That does not tangle with sensory pleasure
That knot will one day have to be untied
But not before the end of pride
Everything is an empty boast
The real owner is a mysterious ghost
Who is happy to part company
Seeing that we are not lonely
Busy in a toy closet
Paradoxically without a child’s mindset
Children don’t cross the line of scrimmage
They are cast in innocence’s image
Adults paint victory signs
Like battlefield artists, drawing many lines
Which they cross everyday
And unknowingly betray
Leading to wars breaking out in the mind
The world escapes until the first cannon leaves its rind
The treasury is buried deep within
And remains lost to those who fight to win
What amounts to a clash of thoughts
Only serves to tighten those knots
That hold the surprise package
Given when one embarks with courage
On an inner voyage
Away from worldly bondage
Which leaves only a finite amount
For the winner to count
Where’s the pleasure in sitting on that pile?
When there are so many who cannot smile
Committed to the dice that’s already been rolled
Accepting whatever has to unfold
So far removed from wealth they are
They cannot stuff any more misery in their jar
Nature’s iron box may one day flatten
Inequalities that are not easily forgotten
These are opportunities for a fresh start
For the haves to take to heart
There is more to life than counting lies
In the guise of gold, it offers the wrong advice
Making the mind inert and cold
Chances of making it this time fold
Everyone loves the promise of a reward
That word strikes the right chord
Even for those who have given up the fight
A surprise package awaits, it is their right
Before that is given
There may be much to be forgiven
The coat and hat would need to be checked
Especially if they are bedecked
With bright and shiny creations
That are the cosmos’s generous donations
Only when the hands are empty and dry
Can that package be seen with the eye
Currently a curiosity to none
As the world is busy with a run
Where everyone is eyeing a win
That isn’t necessarily a sin
But it keeps the darkness waiting
It is anxious to meet whoever’s been creating
The surprise package may shine a light
It doesn’t matter if it is day or night
The knot will come apart strand by strand
It isn’t something that can be planned
It will happen sooner or later
When one gives up being the mind’s curator
- N. Seshadri
