Blessed with remembrance
It’s not meant only for bodily sustenance
To live in this room with an open roof
One need not look very hard for proof
Just out of sight beyond the horizon
Lives the enlightened mind, not limited to the wizened
From there the fluff of youth springs up
Cushioning the hard stirrups
That lock the feet in place
Which are bounced around as fate heats up the pace
Remembrance becomes the guide
Moistening memories that have long since dried
Tears are agnostic to extreme joy and sorrow
Enhanced when one’s in collusion with tomorrow
What’s on the plate today is eaten with haste
Forgetting the real, one lives by imagined taste
Generations are passing
Each one surpassing
In the race to forget
Mankind’s collective debt
To the mother that bore us all
Bearing the brunt of every shabby brawl
The work is too important to be ignored
There’s always hope remembrance will be restored
The book that’s rarely opened
Instead left totally abandoned
Will surely aid in the remembrance
Of the long forgotten entrance
Hidden by the dark mist of time
The inner voice becomes a silent mime
Haplessly pleading
With thoughts that are rapidly breeding
Hoping to inject remembrance
Of that blissful fragrance
Emanating from the garden
Easily reached when the mind’s spartan
At best it's a fleeting moment
Quickly usurped by enjoyment
Of a kind prompted by memory
Why do we dwell in what is already history?
There’s a vast emptiness in front of our very eyes
If only one looks up at the skies
Not with a wish for rain or shine
But after setting aside everything one calls ‘mine’
The loss of remembrance has become acute
And the mind has become a place of ill repute
Hidden by the veil of secrecy
Each one suffers from that hypocrisy
There’s little point in accommodating in memory
Transitory visions, however merry
There will always be plenty of those
In real time, if one stays close
To the state of true remembrance
With an attitude of reverence
Which may crack the self made facade
Wellwishers amongst us will cheer and applaud
It may appear cruel and unjust
But it is only then that sorrow will finally combust
Even if life is lived the way it is
The mind will be in a permanent state of anthesis
There is always a limit on sorrow
Beyond which it becomes hard to swallow
But joy is different
Even a little may be sufficient
To interest one in an infinite store
That’s found behind that hidden door
There isn’t any restriction placed
After one has had even a little taste
That joy propels genuine remembrance
Which by itself is a great penance
That does not require a sabbatical
Or a guiding voice that is puritanical
The benefit is universal
Without any fear of reversal
The present state of shallow remembrance
Has become an encumbrance
Consumed by the mundane
It is natural to have a sense of disdain
For anything beyond
What the thoughts have already spawned
Perfect remembrance runs much deeper
Finding roots of that creeper
Hugging the wall of the mind
Isn’t such a grind
It requires empty hands
That have thrown away future plans
Life will unfold the way it chooses
Even if one refuses
It’s better to seek the path that’s already paved
Not by a mind that is currently enslaved
But through the freedom that comes with right remembrance
Which parallels the joys of the high heavens
- N. Seshadri
