ODE TO A PHOENIX

                                           Ode  To A Phoenix
         

                                                Nestled  cosily on the branch,

                                                Of a blossoming tree,
                                                she had just begun to weave,
                                                Dreams of a  joyous tomorrow.
                         
                                               But Fate and death conspired,

                                               And hatched a cruel plot,
                                              To nip her hopes in the bud,

                                               Before she could wake up.

                                               There fell a bolt from the blue,
                                              Hitting her nest unawares,,
                                              Bringing it down to the earth,
                                              Shattered and burnt to the core.
.
                                               Too deeply hurt by the  blow,
                                               To  feel her  wounded self,
                                               She lay petrified, stunned,
                                            Among wrecks of her rosy dreams.

                                            But before  the deadening  woe,
                                           Could  kill her lively spirit,
                                           She  resolved to wipe her eyes, 
                                           And rise up to face what was due.
   
                                             With slow but sure strife,
                                             She flew through mist and snow,
                                             Carving her route to resurrection,

                                             Leaving behind the dead wreckage.

                                             And lo! She has made it at last!
                                             Reaching the land of bright sunshine,
                                             She is perched on the high olive branch,,
                                                Revived in spirit and zest again. 
                         
                                           Rising from the dust and ashes, 

                                            She  is ready to soar high up  and higher,

                                           While I  rub my eyes in wonder  -
                                          Does Phoenix belong to legends only?


Note---
Dedicated to a  young lady who joined Indian Army when her husband laid down his life guarding the national border in Siachen glacier. .She decided to follow his noble career and underwent the tough military training to resume the service of the nation just where he had left it ....
                       
                     This Braveheart is my Phoenix and this poem, my salute to her indomitable spirit!
            





         









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GRATITUDE

                                     On World Gratitude Day
Gratitude,
    The noblest of  emotions
         That springs forth from the depth of heart.
        At  times expressed  through palpable signs,
             But often, too shy for words or gestures,  
                  Dwells contained inside!
                   Both ways creates a state of bliss
                       Invisible as music but soothing as a song.
     Gratitude, the fondest of gifts one can give or receive.
            Like 'mercy' it is  a  two-fold blessing,
                ''It blesseth him that gives and him that takes''.1
           
1. Shakespeare    

A poem from Gitanjali

When the heart is hard and parched up 
   Come upon me with a shower of mercy ,
         When grace is lost from life 
               Come with a burst of song  .
                    When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides
                         Shutting me out from beyond ,
                              Come to me ,my lord of silence,
                                   With thy peace and rest  .
                When my beggarly heart sits crouched ,shut up in a corner ,break open the door ,my king ,and come with the ceremony of a king .

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust ,O thou holy one ,thou wakeful ,come with thy light and thy thunder .
Gitanjali ,39 

(This beautiful poem by Tagore has been very close to my heart ever since l found it .A constant companion ,it has  helped me maintain my faith in the all embracing benevolence of the supreme power that manifests itself in varied forms ,ranging from soft showers to  threatening thunderbolts , appearing  in accordance with   the need and situation .)
                 

A POEM FROM GITANJALI

When the heart is hard and parched up ;

    come upon me with a shower of mercy .

When grace is lost from life ;

   Come with a burst of song .

When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from beyond;

Come to me  my lord of silence 

With thy peace and  rest .

When my beggarly heart sits crouched ;shut up in a corner  ;break open the door ; my king ; and come with the ceremony of a king  .

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust ;O thou holy one ;thou wakeful ;come with thy light and thy thunder  

.  Geetanjali  39

                ( This beautiful poem has always been very close to my heart  ;ever since I found it for the first time ; a constant  companion  all through ; it has   helped  me maintain  my faith in the all embracing   benevolence  of the supreme  power  that manifests itself    in many forms   ranging from soft , soothing          showers  to the  lightening and thunder  as per the need of the  situation .)

When the heart is hard and parched up ,

Come upon me with a shower of mercy   

           

         When grace is lost from life  

              Come with a burst of song   

                     

                     When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides  shutting me out from beyond ,

     Come to me my lord of silence 

                      With thy peace and rest  .

When my beggarly heart sits crouched ,shut up in a corner ,

      Break open the door ,my king ,and come with the ceremony of a king .

            When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust , O thou holy one , thou wakeful ,come with thy light and thy thunder  .

Dear friends the pieces of writing that you find here ;are the pearls of wisdom  picked by me  during my readings ;my only claim  to them  is  my affinity to the thought expressed by the author  ;known or unknown .
Somehow ; i believe that  you will relish  going through them ; just as l do  .
 ..

Words-----
Words can confer strength , they can drain it off  ,words can gain friends ,they can turn them into enemies , words  can elevate or lower the individual .One must learn the habit of making one's words  sweet soft and pleasant .
Atharva Veda 

How to speak

I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power  -- that the path before me was closed ,that provisions were exhausted and the time had come to take shelter in a silent obscurity .
But Ifind that thy will knows no end in me ,andwhen old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart, and where the old tracks are lost ,new country is  revealed with its wonders  .
 Geetanjali,37th poem 

Be creative.Don't be worried about what you are doing --- one has to do many things--but  do everything creatively; with devotion .Then your work becomes worship .Then whatsoever you do  is a prayer and whatsoever  you do is an offering at the altar  .
 OSHO

Life is our teacher .Life communicates with us all the time and it is a lesson to see how life has continuously led me to the people I need to meet to the situations I need to experience and to the places I need to be  .

          There was a man who made a living selling balloon at a fair. He had all colours of balloons, including red,yellow,blue and green. Whenever business was slow, he would release a helium-filled balloon into the air and when the children saw it go up, they all wanted to buy one. They would come up to him,  buy a balloon, and his sales would go up again. He continued this process all day. One day, he felt someone tugging at his jacket. He turned around and saw a little boy who asked, "if you release a black balloon, would that also fly.? Moved by the boy's concern, the man replied with empathy, "Son, it is not the colour of the balloon, it is what  is inside that makes it go up."
        The same thing applied to our lives. It is what inside that counts. The thing inside of us makes us go up is our attitude. Have ever wondered why some individuals, organizations or countries are more successful than others.
        It is not a secret. These people simply think and act more effectively. They have learned how to do so by investing in the most valuable asset-- people. I believe that the success of an individual, organization or country, depends on the quality of their people.
       Experience has shown that human resources is the most valuable asset of any business or country. It is more valuable than capital or equipment. unfortunately, it is also the most wasted. People can be your biggest asset or your biggest liability.