There is universal guilt
Of miserly thoughts, sludging the mind like silt
There isn’t a machine that can dredge
The mind may be freed, if all thoughts sign a pledge
Of giving back, not just in kind
What’s stored within must unwind
Best if it is measured
As one lets go of what was once treasured
From a mind that celebrates hoarding
Forgetting, until it is replayed as a recording
The spool isn’t always spliced right
Making it a confusing sight
A heap of skeletons
Of one’s own demons
Even that becomes painful to part
If the miser within fails to depart
A celebrated squatter
Who cares little for the squalor
For the eyes never look inside
Busy searching the other side of the great divide
For suitable artifacts
That match the inner circumstance
The miser’s reach goes as far as thought can travel
Painstakingly holding on, lest the charade unravel
Invisible hands struggle with that ever increasing bundle
It’s weight making the fragile edifice of peace crumble
Which is built on something entirely different
It isn’t a great mystery to the budding mind of an infant
Our most treasured artifact
Is inexplicably abstract
It cannot be clasped by hands
Or understood when one has ceaseless demands
It is a miser’s quandary
Despite plenty, living in poverty
It will be a never ending search
Unless one gets off orthodoxy’s perch
Calling for more
To be added to the mental store
That never sells out
Leading to innate generosity’s rout
A miser is happy to makes a burnt and hollowed out tree home
Even in a lush forest, a rich and green dome
The pinnacle of nature’s creation
A vehicle for eternal salvation
Is wasted on endless rumination
That ties up the power of effortless concentration
Every noble effort requires giving
Life that a miser isn’t accustomed to living
Stiff with change
A miser’s stuffed pockets are afflicted with mange
Hurting fingertips that dare dip in it
A truth the mind refuses to admit
Dwelling on a stagnant thought pile
That defiles this fleshy isle
A miserly mind becomes a hoarder’s paradise
Where the buzz word is economise
Torn apart by runaway thoughts
A miser’s at a loss
How to let them go?
While holding on to worldly dough
Unable to get to the crux
Of self inflicted suffering, happiness is left in flux
Misery becomes the norm
That may outlast this transient form
A way out of the miser’s quandary
First involves airing out the mind’s dirty laundry
Facing up to the reality
That a miserly outlook saps vitality
It’s the mind, not the hands, that has to let go
To be amongst those in the know
About a secretive source, the spout of bliss
It’s transforming power is hard to dismiss
To reach it, roots have to travel deep
While awareness must refuse to sleep
One cannot be miserly with effort
A stance that lowly thoughts exhort
If the analysis isn’t complete
Before time shows itself to be a cheat
What’s painstakingly built
Will painfully wilt
Including a miser’s treasure hoard
Which can never be restored
A revelation that the mind refuses to bear
Fighting time with a cold stare
When the mind decides to disburse
Miserly thoughts curse
Lamenting the loss of status quo
It’s be painful to let go
But only empty hands may hold the greater prize
That may be found only in the inner skies
It isn’t an unachievable dream
When desires lose their head of steam
Guaranteed to becomes wiser
Is that noble miser
Who takes nothing from this earth
But fights to end any dearth
It need not be anyone’s fate
To live in a pitiable state
There is plenty to give
If the mind isn’t held captive
By a miserly advisor
Who has been made the driver
The road ahead is never seen
When the miser’s quandary steals the scene
- N. Seshadri
