ಹೂವೆ, ನಾ ನೀನಾಗಿದ್ದರೆ...

ಹೂವೆ, ನಾ ನೀನಾಗಿದ್ದರೆ...

ಪ್ರತಿ ಬೆಳಗೂ ಬರುವ ಅದೇ ಸೂರ್ಯನ ಕಾಣಲು
ಕಾಲ್ತುದಿಯಲಿ ನಿಂತು, ಕೊರಳ ಚಾಚಿ,
ಕಣ್ಣರಳಿಸಿ, ಹೊಸ ನಗೆ, ಸುವಾಸನೆಯ ಬೀರಿ,
ದಿನವೂ ಹೊಸ ಉತ್ಸುಕತೆಯಿಂದ ನಲಿಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆನೇ?

ಪ್ರತಿ ದಿನವೂ ನಿಂತಲ್ಲೇ ನಿಂತರೂ
ರೆಕ್ಕೆ ಬಿಚ್ಚಿ ಹಾರಾಡುವ ಹಕ್ಕಿಗಳ ಕಂಡೂ ಕಾಣದೆ,
ಅಪರೂಪಕ್ಕೊಮ್ಮೆ ಬೀಸುವ ಗಾಳಿಯಲ್ಲೇ ಮೈಮರೆತು,
ನಿಂತಲ್ಲೇ ನೀಲಿ ಆಕಾಶದಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲಾ ಹಾರಾಡಿದ ಅನುಭವ ಕಾಣುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆನೇ?

ಮೊಗ್ಗರಳಿ ಹೂವಾದ ಕೆಲವು ದಿನಗಳಲ್ಲೇ
ಸಾವು ಬಂದೆಳೆದು ಪಕಳೆಗಳೆಲ್ಲಾ ಉದುರಿ
ಮಣ್ಣು ಪಾಲಾಗಿ ಕೊಳೆಯುತ್ತವೆಂದು ತಿಳಿದೂ,
ನಾನು ಹೂವಾಗಿ ಅರಳಿದಾಗ ನಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆನೇ?

ಹೂವಾಗಿ ನಗುವುದೇ ಧರ್ಮವೆಂಬ ಅರಿವು ನಿನಗಿದ್ದಂತೆ,
ಹೂವಲ್ಲದ ನನ್ನ ಧರ್ಮದ ಅರಿವು ನನಗಿದೆಯೇ?
ಹೂವೆ ನಾ ನೀನಾಗಿದ್ದರೆ,
ನಾ ನಿನ್ನನಂತಿರುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆನೇ?

The two wolves

I wrote this over the long weekend :-)
*******************************************
The two of them walked hand in hand,
The old man and the little boy,
Leaving their footprints in the beach sand,
The kid jumping over the waves with joy

They found a bench after a long walk,
Right under the shade of a palm tree,
They sat down on it and began to talk,
And the old man turned and said to me.

There are two wolves within my heart,
Two wolves big and strong,
And they tear each other apart,
They have been fighting for so long.

One embodies good, makes me turn away from sin,
The other embodies evil,destruction and greed,
Then I asked him, "So which one will win",
And he replied, "The one that I feed".

---Prem

********************************************
Something else which gave me this thought was this mail:

This is from one of the lectures by Chandrashekhara Bharati, who
was the Jagadgaru of Sringeri Sharada Peetham. The saying goes
with the four yugas :

In Krutha Yuga, good and evil lived in separate worlds.

In Treta Yuga, they lived in separate geographical regions,
but same world.

In Dwapara Yuga, they lived in separate bodies, but in
the same family, same region, same world.

In Kali Yuga, they live inside the same body. This is why
victory over evil must come within oneself. It cannot happen
through an incarnation of god.

MooDitu ನಗೆ...

MooDitu nage..

ಚಂದದ ಚಂದ್ರನ ಬಿಳಿ ಹೆಚ್ಚಿಸಲು
ಗೆಳೆಯ ಕರಿಮೋಡ ಇನ್ನಷ್ಟು ಕಪ್ಪಾಗಿದ್ದು,

ಅದೊಮ್ಮೆ ಆ ಕರಿ ಮೋಡದ ಶುದ್ಧ ಹೃದಯವು
ಕರಗಿ ನೀರಾಗಿ ಮಳೆಯಾಗಿ ಹರಿದು ಬಂದು,

ಅದರಲ್ಲೊಂದು ಮಳೆಹನಿಯು, ಅರೆ ಅರಳಿದ ಗುಲಾಬಿಯ
ಎಸಳುಗಳ ಮಧ್ಯದಲ್ಲಿ ಚಂಚಲವಾಗಿ ಹರಿಯುತಿರಲು,

ಆ ವಿಸ್ಮಯದಲ್ಲೊಂದು ವಿನೋದವ ಕಂಡು
MooDitu ನಗೆ, MooDitu ನನ್ನಲ್ಲೊಂದು ನಗೆ!

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night
-Dylan Thomas


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Tiny and Shiny - Series...

This one was my tease... written for an ex-colleague of mine... in the course of an interesting new person's short stint with us.

Part ONE :

Tiny and Shiny wanted to talk,
So Tiny and Shiny went for a walk.
Tiny says to Shiny.."Let's walk further away!"
Shiny says..."Oh not farther than the bay!"
Came the bay, and they stopped in silence
Far somewhere a motorboat rumbled in violence
The next minute came along the Don
Tiny and Shiny's faces began to fawn!
The gunfire sounded the couple were scared
Shiny behind him, as well ahead Tiny dared,
The gunpoint aimed at our hero, all ready to go
When up from behind came the huge blow!
That's how our story went...where it went doesnt matter!
Shiny ran away with the Don ..and Tiny drowned in the Water!

Part TWO :

The sounds of Tiny's heart breaking,
The ground beneath his feet shaking,
His long love all torn apart,
As Shiny boards the bullock cart,
The gallant Fiero, he cycles right behind,
His heart weeps,with her memories on mind,
At the intersection they take different ways,
All this strong sentiment hardly ever pays,
Heart break..again.. all a part of the game..
He'll start again, this time with another dame.

Part ONE and HALF:

This one was written by another colleague of mine in response to the Part ONE . I disturbed him from his deep slumber to show off... and got a handsome payback :)

To thee, I give my applause
For imagination that fleeted without a pause.

Rumbling, it was, not the water, mind you,
it was the run-away wildness of thoughts anew.

As the bay waited in quietness to don the shine
My sleep vanished as I glanced thy creation with these eyes of mine.

Pleasant shock it was to learn new truths
of people who wrote in their fanciful youth

Pleasant also, for I can write too
poems so simple, when there's nothing else to do

Awaken may you now to the glory of afternoon
And better get to work, and better do it soon.

I'm a woman...

The first of my Women's Day Poems... inspired and meant to antagonize my batchmate- PJM's " I am a Man and I am proud of it!" ... If anyone remembers that one :P ... he he

She was the woman dressed in white,
The traces of blue at the edges,
With missionaries of charity, holy and bright
She cleansed our land with her dredges!

When man thought of war, and went on to destroy
She was right behind listening, she heard their cry!
With wounds of soldiers lying in the camp
She worked indefatigabily, the lady with the lamp!

When the world had comfort and leisure to offer
She chose all hardship, chose to suffer,
Compassion not just to humans, dedication not just to sciences
She spent a life with our earlier forms, lived with them in their crisis!

She tells her different tales, she portrays a variety of roles
She plays each part,a work of art and reaches all her goals
Although, some of them are sweet, some of them are bitter
Seldom will you hear her grouse, rarely feel the jitter!

The embodiment of endurance and love,
She works down here, works for God above!
The dearness of life, the art of living,
The pursuit of happiness, the joy of giving,
She carries them all with such wonderful grace,
She's the child blessed with God's true embrace!

If only all the men in the world understood what effort is needed
And if only all her troubles were told, her grievances were heeded!
Of the mother they're part of, of the sister that they take support,
Of the wife who endures, of the daughter who cares,
Men could show their gratitude and truth in it's purport
That would help them define themselves- that'd be a man who dares!

This womens' day, I call out to her and I question her conviction
Tell her her life is a beautiful reality and do away with all the fiction
If she'd just know what she's really worth, and she's worth every bit,
She'd say it more often, she'd say this-" I'm a woman and I'm proud of it!"

Idle busy-ness

One from 4 years ago.... And now sometimes I wish I had an exam... like a purpose ... once in a while

Sometimes I also feel maybe everyday is an exam... :)

There's a time when just staring at the ceiling,
Returns such happiness...cant tell how i'm feeling!
When memories of good old times keep coming back,
It fascinates me - how huge ... my memory stack!
Compelling thoughts of the near future and fun
Sets free my imagination and wildly it does run!
My heart skips a beat every time the phone rings
And most often than not, to someone else's tune it sings.
And the clock's ticking is so inconspicous,
When my emptiness is the object of such a fuss!
When voices from around come rattling through
And I snap back...hey, dont tell me what to do!
Up from sleep, my senses show so much resistance,
And eating seems to be the only reason for existence!
It's surprising, I read anything and everything I can find,
And how irrelevent things i need to read,seem to my mind!
Poetry becomes my food for thought and soul
And getting one together...then my ultimate goal!
These are the simple pleasures of doing nothing,
Make life so satisfied so happy... so fulfilling.
So much for happiness, that worries I now begin to garner,
Scare me now...this time, exams're just'round the corner!

The World to Me...

Was written for someone I immensely respect ... :)

Broadminded and western, guarding by the tough Rockies,
Dense, unexplored and natural, is the Amazon, one sees,
Comforting Savannas and calm Sahara, on an African Safari,
Diversity and endurance is what the Asian clans carry
Rich and secure, apple of the Queen's eye, Down Under,
Industrious and wise, is the Post-Renaissance splendor,
Cold, quiet, mystic and peaceful are the sleeted poles,
All continents, embracing the oceans, play their roles!
And you who bear all these virtues, for us to learn and be
Will remain, forever special, for you mean the world to me!

2005's new year poem

Poem I wrote for the New Year 2006... just after the Tsunami...


I am born among Mother Earth's various off springs
For me, songs of compassion and spirit, Nature sings

The Spring arrives, brings with her merry greens,
Flora and fauna sing and dance in splendid scenes,
In the clear skies, stars sparkle all bright,
But I walk farther for a diamond while I might

As the Autumn's hues over leaves unfold
I am gifted with Midas's touch of gold,
They fall down on me, precious to gather,
But I dig deeper for shining metal rather,

The Showers pour on the window's cob webs all night,
Glittering curtains bring through gentle sunlight,
Silver drops along the railing's ridge trickle
But I work longer for earning a worthy nickel,

Winter and Chill enter my lonely life together,
Call for sitting around warmth in the weather,
The Sky flakes kindly over me leaving snow covers,
But I look beyond Her, to dream of Ivory towers,

I bind beauty in cages, capture birds flying free,
I rest on wooden luxury, cut down a living tree!
I claim compassion, while my burden, animals bear,
And the love for you, I claim often, is actually rare!

Blessed am I, with such intelligence and speech,
But I wrong all of it for everything in my reach!
I have survived another year, in such disgrace,
I can not complain if the Oceans reflect rocking menace,

While the Powerful, avenge us with their mighty waves,
I thank my Mother for every friend of mine she saves!
And Mother is so truly giving, I have another chance,
This year I will have more to see than in a glance.

Mother and me will live this year, with amity and grace,
Only my eyes dare capture memories of Her smiling face!
Four seasons that encompass a whole Year's expressions,
Come to me again, as a promise of priceless lessons!

Roads and Crossroads

A flimsy little one I felt compelled to write for my friends in Tokyo... Also was trying out, how three-line rhyme appeals to one's senses... If you survive through, let me know :)

At crossroads, we always long for a while more.
There's ease and comforts in the smiles we wore.
More to hear and more to say, of now and before...

At crossroads, we are met with exciting newness,
Of possibilities, challenges, failures and success.
And well mapped out ways for the direction-less.

At crossroads, looking back at what we left behind...
There'll be people and places that were very kind,
And memories deeply etched in a willing mind!

At crossroads, are bygones and good times bode,
There're your roads ahead, with promises aboard,
Let the glasses rise, here, now, one for the Road...
One last time, for you, me and for the Crossroads!

Daffodils...

For the inspiration it brought to someone I know... inspired enough to help the pleasure should reach out... and to transliterate into Kannada...

Kande naa hathu savira lilly hoovugalanna...


I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: -
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -and gazed -but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.
- William Wordsworth...

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

With my bias for Robert Frost's dark - nature - obessessed poetry, below I add the famous and my favourite ...

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening - Robert Frost.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

A Poison Tree

In my desparation to keep our blog alive, I have subscribed to About's a- poem- a- day. That doesn't mean I will bombard the blog with a poem everyday. It just means that now a nice play of words such as the one below will have more visibility among our limited audience...

A Poison Tree by William Blake,

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water'd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree

Parity....

In my second year of volunteering for a Note Book distribution drive, we were giving away slates to 1st standard kids, in a particular Government school I visit. A friend of mine was handing out slates to all the kids, whose names were being called out by the teacher. At the end of it all, we checked with her if she was done. She called out once more to ask if all of them had had their chance. Just in time, she realised that she hadn't called one little boy's name out. He was sitting by a corner and didn't even complain. If I were him, I'd not only feel bad that my name wasn't called out, but I'd also raise my hand and rake a fuss or look upset. I went over and asked him, why he didn't ask for due attention. And he took out a old slate from his tattered bag next to him, and said he already had that one form the previous year's drive. His honesty, the sparkle in his eyes, the simplicity of his thoughts.....just killed me. Still kills me each time I remember his face. 7 year old innocence... I pray good things happen with that little fellow. I pray that his innocence will last a while longer atleast. I pray that there always be people who value truth and honesty. I pray that some day there will be equity, equality and "Parity"....

The rich man saw the ragged small boy and tossed at him a nickel,
But soon had his face go red, felt the coin in his pockets tickle,
As he walked wearing a satisfied smile by the false sense of parity...
He was belittled by a little hand, that refused the dime of charity!

The apology

I finally got down to writing something........

The Apology

He is sitting on the bed
Staring at the phone
A hundred thoughts in his head
Wishing the answers he'd known

With every tick of the clock
His courage slowly drains
And with every passing minute
Memories befuddle his brains

He knows it's all forgiven,
Its a story, old and forgotten
But not saying that one word
Makes him still feel small and rotten

He caused her much pain
She forgave,without him having to ask
So he hated her all the more
But she never took him to task

As time moved on, so did they
The passing years dulled the pain
Dulled the sadness, dulled the spite
And friends they became once again

She never mentions those past events
Never mentions how much she cried
He never mentions that he is is now sorry,
And to say that, how long he has tried

When you put a nail in a wall,
Drive it in with a force so blind
And when you pull it out later
Notice, there is a mark always left behind ?

So it is with relations amongst people
How hasty and foolish he had been
No matter the amends, the mark remains
But he is hoping he can wipe the slate clean

"Its long overdue", his heart tells him
And the same echoes through every muscle and bone,
"Its now or never", he tells himself,
As his hand reaches out for the telephone


*****************************************************
Before you can say "yaarige yen paapa madithiyo ?!" , this is just an exaggeration of some events that *may* have happened with me ;-)

regards,
Prem

A Snap at the Horizon...

I am not sure what inspired the thought behind this poem... The least I could do is capture the haze :)

In a quick flash, the few long decades have passed by him,
He sits there, in the shadows of the twilight, so dim...
A feeling, having travelled far, is cast in his weary eyes,
Of being in the same space and time as an infant, that cries.

He tries to focus, on the rising discomfort in the sound,
But resigns to the inarticulate pain by which, even he is bound.
Sneering at the ways of life, the vetaran inspires my lines...
That have flavours of young purple grapes and old red wines!

His loose skin with an etched display of veins and wrinkles,
Is as soft as that of a baby, then tight, now has crinkles.
Now, a worn-out cap, hides it and the yearly strands of losses,
That, when in the mother's hand, had promises of wild tresses.

A smile that comes by, quite often, with a proud pink display,
Comes now, but rarely, dotted and dull- a defeated white foray.
He walks with help, his tired limbs bearing the slighted weight,
Like the start, with a crawl, a wall, a fall and the ways of fate...

The youthful gather around a child, with their happiness to lease,
While he spends his time, with the newspaper,worries and memories.
An attention-seeker then, and now vainly seeks attention again...
Voices seek ears with the eagerness of words sought by a pen...

The routine of sleep, massages, admirers and scheduled lactic feed,
Is much like the timely tonic, tablets, capsules and their breed...
A colourful cushion at this moment, under twinkling stars at night,
At the other end of the spectrum is hospitable, but in blended white!

Strange ways of beginning from the end or ending where we started,
In the cycle of meeting ourselves at crossings where we parted,
Frame the riddles of life that are farfetched even for the wise...
Does just a snap at the horizon ever tell the sunset from sunrise?

ನೆನಪು...

ನೆನಪು...

ಗುಡುಗು ಮಿಂಚುಗಳ ಹಿಮ್ಮೇಳದಲ್ಲೊಂದು ಮಳೆಯಾಯ್ತು
ಸ್ಫಟಿಕ ಮಣಿಗಳೇ ಒಟ್ಟು ಸೇರಿ ಮಳೆಹನಿಯಾದಂತಿತ್ತು

ಧೂಳಲ್ಲಿ ಮಿಂದೆದ್ದ, ಒಣಗಿ ಒರಟಾದ
ಮರ-ಗಿಡಗಳ ಮೇಲೂ ಮಳೆ ಬಿತ್ತು...

ಆ ದೊಡ್ದ ಮರದ, ಮುದುಡಿದ-ನಿಸ್ತೇಜ
ನಿಶ್ಶಕ್ತ ಎಲೆಗಳ ಮೇಲೂ ಮಳೆ ಬಿತ್ತು...

ಪ್ರತಿ ಮಳೆ ಹನಿಗೂ ಪ್ರತಿಸ್ಪಂದಿಸಿ
ಒಂದೊಂದು ಎಲೆಯೂ ಪುಳಕಿತಗೊಂಡಿತು!

ಕ್ಷಣಮಾತ್ರದಲ್ಲಿ ತಾನು ತೊಯ್ದ ಮರದ
ನೆನಪೂ ಎಲ್ಲದೆ ಮಳೆ ಮಾಯವಾಯ್ತು...

ಮಳೆ ನಿಂತು ಭುವಿ ಒಣಗಿಯೂ ಅಯ್ತು
ಮತ್ತೆಲ್ಲೋ ಮೋಡ ಕಟ್ಟಿ ಮಳೆಯಾಗಿಯೂ ಆಯ್ತು!

ಆದರೂ ಅದೊಂದು ಹುಚ್ಚು ಮರ
ಇನ್ನೂ ಆ ಮರದ ನೆನಪಿನಲ್ಲಿದೆ..

ಮಳೆ ಹನಿಗಳ ಎಲೆ-ಎಲೆಯಲಿ ಬಚ್ಚಿಟ್ಟು
ನೆನಪುಗಳ ಹೀರುತಿದೆ...

ಆಗೊಮ್ಮೆ ಈಗೊಮ್ಮೆ ಹನಿ ತೊಟ್ಟಿಕ್ಕುತ್ತಿದೆ
ಈಗದು ಮಳೆ ಹನಿಯಲ್ಲ..ಮರದ ಕಂಬನಿಯಾಗಿದೆ!

Sarfaroshi ki Tamanna...

Sometimes I have goose bumps thinking about the intensity of purpose that people must have had during our freedom struggle... I pulled this out of the Wiki...

Sarfaroshi ki Tamanna is a poem by Ramprasad Bismil. It is an emotion-evoking ode to the revolutionaries of the Indian Independence Movement. It goes as follows:

Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.
Dekhna hai zor kitna baazu-e-qaatil mein hai
Karta nahin kyun doosra kuch baat cheet,
Dekhta hun main jise voh chup teri mehfil mein hai
Aye shaheed-e-mulk-o-millat main tere oopar nisaar,
Ab teri himmat ka charcha ghair ki mehfil mein hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.


Waqt aanay dey bata denge tujhe aye aasman,
Hum abhi se kya batayen kya hamare dil mein hai
Khainch kar layee hai sab ko qatl hone ki ummeed,
Aashiqon ka aaj jumghat koocha-e-qaatil mein hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.


Hai liye hathiyaar dushman taak mein baitha udhar,
Aur hum taiyyaar hain seena liye apna idhar.
Khoon se khelenge holi gar vatan muskhil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.


Haath jin mein ho junoon katt te nahi talvaar se,
Sar jo uth jaate hain voh jhukte nahi lalkaar se.
Aur bhadkega jo shola-sa humaare dil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.


Hum to ghar se nikle hi the baandhkar sar pe qafan,
Chaahatein liin bhar liye lo bhar chale hain ye qadam.
Zindagi to apni mehmaan maut ki mehfil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.


Dil mein tuufaanon ki toli aur nason mein inquilaab,
Hosh dushman ke udaa denge humein roko na aaj.
Duur reh paaye jo humse dam kahaan manzil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.
Dekhna hai zor kitna baazuay qaatil mein hai.

This is probably not the exact arrangement of verses as Bismil wrote them, though these are all his words. Some verses of this poem were also featured in the 2006 Hindi movie Rang De Basanti Following lines are also a part of the original poem.

Yoon khara maqtal mein qatil keh raha hai baar-baar,
Kya tamanna-e-shahaadat bhi kisi ke dil mein hai.

Weather babies...

When I was here in Tokyo last December it was freezing cold... and I penned this down on a Saturday at work...

She looks dull, hurt and cold from the high sky,
Turns away from her earthlings down here, who cry,
Pray she lets her Son shine warm for a while,
So her weather-babies, down here may flash a smile!

I am here again in August, there are beautifully wet mornings ...and the most ornate umbrellas... I penned this one down on a lazy Saturday at home...

The cloudy eyes, the brimming gloom to tear down soon...
And we dance in merriment of the skies' impending boon!
When we look up puzzled at her, as she begins to cry,
She sprinkles on our blushing cheeks, her tears of joy!

For all the weather babies like me... Megha

If

Rudyard Kipling
If

If If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; 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; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on"; If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run - Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

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I had printed this out and put it up in my cubicle at work . This is what I had aspired to be and still am....