Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight!

Rock me to sleep
-Elizabeth Allen

BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,—
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,—
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between:
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,—
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Smile

Smile
-Me

Smile at the sunshine, and the breeze.
Smile at the moon and the stars.
Smile at light, smile at the dark.
Smile at the meadows, and the highways.
Smile at the trees, and the skyscrapers.
Smile at the blossom, and the babe.
Smile at the passersby, smile at yourself.
Smile at good luck, and the misfortunes.
Smile in good times, and the adversities.
Smile at the smiles, and your tears.
Smile at love, smile at hate.
Smile at life, smile at death.
Smile at successes, and the failures.
Smile at perfection, and the mistake.
Smiles you give, smiles you take.
Smile, come what may or may not.
Smile always, always smile.

In Memoriam

Time may help us forget pains, hurts and sorrows. But memories can never be erased from our heart of hearts. And Sabna comes to my memory not seldom. I don't know whether I'd be making our aggrieved friends cry again, if ever they come to read this. But I can't help it. The other day I ransacked my "memory bag", which possesses all my childhood treasures including the classroom pranks and tit bits, to find out the letters Sab had written to me. Those mails we shared in teens had been bridges for a lost friendship, broken in childhood. My hands trembled when I discovered them at last. As if prima facie I read, re-read and re-read them until I realised that I shouldn't drench those precious bits. And there in that small heap, I saw a poem I wrote in 12th std., initially dedicating it to Sab, and later publishing it in the school magazine to all my friends. Here's my trembling hands going through it over again, wishing for a catharsis, and intensely missing Sab.

The Memoir

Friend, you are a gift to me
With you, I always love to be
Like stars dazzling in the deep sky
Shone every where we did a try.
Stays an implicit feel deep inside
When your smiling face is beside.

I will be there when you call
Just like you reached me pall
I can cry with you in your tears
Pal, you and I met since years
Did we quit, but now reunited
We sense the real joy unlimited.

We strive to accomplish a feat
When we feel an unusual beat
In our deepest heart, and soul
Energy brimming in as a whole
Isn’t it a wonder to see you
Culled out the best in a few.

Now that we lost our fine days
Fighting all around in our ways
Time stands before us as a shadow
We know not, is it wide or narrow
The road of life, which will guide
And soon hold apart both of us aside.

It’s good that we are true friends
Sharing all bliss, qualms, tensions
Fears, dreams and love all together
Cherish I this friendship forever
Now it’s time to bid you good bye
Memories of you in my heart lie.

Dreams

Dreams are tricky fellows. We see them initially at a distance but don't have them. Yet they keep spurring us until we get them. When we once accomplish that 'something' we dreamt of, we should never be complacent. Have a new dream. If one doesn't get it at all in spite of the sweat and blood he poured out in its pursuit, he should never give up. Keep dreaming. For sometimes, may be that's all one can do. But have faith- newer dreams come true everyday. When one of my friends remarked the other day, that he has got no dreams, I was astonished. Even the most desperate person would possess a dream -knowingly or not- without which his life would be meaningless.
It's obvious that this doesn't imply that one has to simply sit cozily and dream. That'd be worst failure, to say. Working smart on the dream matters the most in turning them true.
Carl Sandburg reminds us, "nothing happens unless first we dream."
Dreams help us keep working and going on. They are the prophesies of successes in the future. Dreams are the blurred outlines shadowing out of nowhere but preceding a vision that's to bask in the clear light. The dream, be it any, lies in our hands. Give it forth or fold it tight. Make it happen or forget it. The choice is ours.

Life is but an empty dream!

“A Psalm of Life”

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! -
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Goodbye Sabna...

An eternal goodbye is very difficult to come to terms with. Specially when it's someone you've grown up with, lived your schoolyears with, saved tenderly in your heart and now no more. Why do loved ones speed past into the chasms of eternal memory- or oblivion I do not know-, leaving us to slog behind? Woe the day, oh tear-worn heart! Now it's adieu to my friend, to all her dreams, forever...
Goodbye Sab...

Words

Words mirror our character.
"What comes out of the mouth comes from the heart."
So does the Bible exhort us to watch our words, for they are the external expression of our thoughts -transparent or concealed. Winston Churchill has rightly said,
"We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out."

If we truly open our eyes and see how words carry our disposition, we'll be amazed. Words are ourselves pulled inside out. The words that we let be spilled forth are our voluntary confessions of whom we truly are. If we try carefully observing our casual as well as intimate conversations with others, we'll be surprised to note that words are the basic ways we try to posit ourselves right or wrong, superior or inferior. This may be unintentional. Supplemented by our body language, this is an effort by our psyche to justify our deeds, or to establish ourselves. Words of consolation from our part help others to measure the extent to which we are considerate about others' feelings. While words of burlesque and priggishness never affect whom they are subjected to, but actually show how far we run back to our own selfish insides.

The words that we utter lead people to judge us. Of course its not just what or how we speak, but what and how they hear is equally important in conversations. It's however true that we can do very little about it. So it's always better to think before we speak. Once we let them out, words leave endless echoes. Let them then be sweet and beautiful resonances.

Snippet

Take less, give instead. Expect less, but provide.
Judge less, appreciate more. Loathe not, love always.

Ode to the Music of Love

Ode to the Music of Love
- Me

If you could, love-
Sing me your love,
Your music smiles me.
The winds bring me
Your music, but
I falter singing them alone.
If you could, love-
Near or far,
Come,
Sing your love with me.
The distance is just a matter-
A matter of Time.
The wait is but an ordeal,
It tries me hard and weary.
Sadly and singly
My music goes out of tune.
So if you could, love-
Sing me your love
Your music smiles me.

Snippet

Learn and earn everything just the hard way. Holding the silverspoon isn't so exciting, is it?

Snippet

Looking up to someone shows how humble you are, but simulating them reveals how humbled you are.

Raindrops keep falling on my head :-)

It rained heavily today. Rains bring me back memories most often. Only that either I might not be home or getting over the endless to-do lists to savour the wonderful feeling they'd gift me with. At last today- since many days, Time was compassionate enough to favour me :-)
I took a repose though only for a few minutes, by my window watching the raindrops rushing fast downward, humming one of the masterpieces of Colonial Cousins - Indian Rain. I cannot put into words the delight I felt then. Moments of those old rainy days my brother and I used to blend with our special music flashed across me. Sailing on an open boat in rainy memories. Thats the warmth that rains can give us, eh? There but remains a few silent questions in my mind. In the midst of all the hearsay (um, facts) of the rapid global climatic changes, I'm wondering: would the later years still fetch us lovely rainy days? Or would all the nostalgic commoners like me have to have lone memories and not rain laden ones? I hope, not.

Pssst: Yeah, lets not sit back and merely hope so, but find how to join hands to not let our precious eco-gifts be lost. Little Wing wants to keep flying to the rain-sopped cliffs too! :-)

Music for the day : Jim Croce

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
Till Eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

Simon Birch: A Bead of Thought

Happened today quite by chance, to see the 1998 film Simon Birch, directed by Mark Steven Johnson. Based on the novel A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving, the film stars Ian Michael Smith as Simon, Joseph Mazzello as Joe, Ashley Judd, Oliver Platt and Jim Carrey as the grownup Joe. The titular role is that of the 12 year old kid who is afflicted with Morquio syndrome, a genetic disorder that causes dwarfism.

Well, I'm not here to narrate the entire plot of the movie. You can just browse anywhere on the web for related info. I'm planning just to quickly excerpt the bead of thought that caught my attention.

Simon Birch: Does God have a plan for us?
Rev. Russell: I like to think He does.
Simon Birch: -Me too. I think God made me the way I am for a reason.
Rev. Russell: Well, I'm glad that, um, that your faith, uh, helps you deal with your, um...you know, your, your condition.
Simon Birch: That's not what I mean. I think I'm God's instrument - that He's gonna use me to carry out His plan.


We are, where and how we are, on a plan sketched by God. One may not always see anything reasonable enough to be happening as good for ourselves. Dropping the teabag, jabbing not the carrot but the thumb, missing a train, failing the important interview, turning a direction unseen or unexpected. All might not work well for us always. Those instances should recall us of Simon's words that we are indeed becoming "God's instruments". What a privilege! Your mischances may open up doors of chances for the probably more deserving others. The train you missed may have fetched an unseen blessing on time. God knows when to give you anything and when not. If only you'd try opening the precise location of your memory, you'd start counting the array of blessings that come your way every second. Now, do not again shed tears for what's happening of you albeit negative or shattering. Share a SMILE instead, for God's sharpening you -His instrument- to conduct His mighty plans.

Quite possible it is that this thought might have reached you in some sermon or any enlightening talk. I don't however mind a slight repetition, if it'd recall you of this familiar idea. I believe I'm God's instrument too. That's how you came across this and are reading till this word.
Thanks. God bless.

God's silence

God's voice is tender and sweet. It cannot reach you until the ears of your heart are sharp enough to perceive it. But why don't we heed to His unspoken words that're equally tender and sweet? Why do, by a quiet God, we pass unheard? When would we listen to His Divine Silence? It cannot reach you until the ears of your heart are sharp enough to perceive it, either.
God bless.

It Is.

It Is.
- Me

Bygone days are withered leaves.
They burgeon forth, fall in the air, get crumbled at our feet.
And destiny lets them kiss the dust for good...
All in a flick.
Matter of time, somebody said.
It is.
Memory serves to be the miniscule barn of those fallen leaves.
Wizened they may be, still not rotten.
Even in oblivion's curse.
Ah and keep us going in our walks.
Yeah en route the gonna-wither leaves of today,
Just before they too accede to that selfsame silly barn.
All in a flick.

Spell Yourself

It doesn’t take a moment to taste everything sour

When the pains of life mould in you a roughneck,

Scathing the entire prototype of your individuality.

I see you stand lonesome, shadowing around a mirror

To somehow reinstate the ‘you’ you were, years ago.

Why then did I come forth in your pursuit to find a self?

Wherefore am I honored by flashing before you now?

We never met in any road; you and I were they-

They who called themselves strangers, who knew never

The bridgeable bond of kinship a soul bore to another.

You still keep going on in your search; stride past miles a lot,

Climb the peaks of hope, you stroll every possible channel,

Delve the deepest ocean and choke through every hole,

All you found was but the stranger who gaped at you-

You looked away and hatefully left.

Open your eyes, and see the cloud waiting above you

And the sand grain you crush with hatred along your way,

Unearth me in the leaf falling beneath your footprints here,

Heave a sigh when you feel me in the air; I see you smile:

You take away the mirror and spell yourself in me.