How hard is it to find a smile?

I went out today, as I walked around I smiled at everyone who came into my view.
Out of all the people who I smiled at, only one smiled back. She was a short old lady, who seemed as though she had seem more dark days than light.
I remember her smile, the way she glanced at me. Whenever I remember that moment I feel joy.
Maybe its just me but I feel so much happiness when I see a person smile.
When a child smiles the whole world smiles back at them, but as we age a smile becomes a rarity.

So how hard is it to smile?

Conquer anger by love.

Conquer evil by good.

Conquer the mean by generosity.

Conquer the liar by truth…

Never in the world is hatred conquered by hatred:

Hatred is conquered by love.

Dhammapada 223, 5

بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم

Dying Poet

When the time comes for
The nightingale to exhaust all chords
For the phoenix to burn all feathers
For the peacock to surrender all beauty

When the stream of ink runs dry
When the lyrics of emotion fail to enchant
The dying poet breathes his last
Ceases to exist
Becomes a memory
A pen name
A shadow
Whereby the student of writing is left his legacy
It is not for them to seek happiness in this world
If it passes them by it is a gift,
Aspiring to join the ranks of the dying poet.
For in his lifetime
He felt the peoples hurt
Suffered what they suffered
And his verses spread out like fire
Verses of sadness,
Of love
Of hope,
Of life.

The dying poet will leave this world to join the ranks of saints.

tempest


Dedicated to The Dying Poet.

بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم

Humanity's Call

There's a call.
Can you hear it? I can.
Coming from deep oceans .
Screeching, Wailing, Painfully calling.
Calling you.

There's a cry.
Does your heart bleed at the sound of it? Mine does.
Coming from war torn lands.
Screeching, Wailing, Painfully crying.
Crying for you.

There's a stare.
Staring at you, does your eyes see them? Mine do.
Coming from an orphaned child.
Screeching, Wailing, Painfully staring.
Staring at you.

There's a plea.
A plea for a generous hand, do you witness this sight? Mine do.
Coming from a beggar of ripe age.
Screeching, Wailing, Painfully pleading.
Pleading for you.

Shall I carry on?

Shall I speak to you of the pains of war that these eyes have witnessed,
Or the pangs of hunger and the thirst which this stomach has become accustomed to,
Or the separation of mother and child that this heart has felt,
Or shall you carry on living,
Ignoring the Screech,
The Wail,
The Pain
Of humanity's call.

tempest.

Loss

At the temple there is a poem called 'Loss' carved into the stone

It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out.

You can not read loss

Only feel it...

(Memoirs of a Geisha)

I watch the sunrise lighting the sky,

Casting its shadow near.

And on this morning bright though it be,

I feel those shadows near me.

But you are always close to me

Following all my ways.

May I be always close to you.

Following all your ways, Lord.

I watch the sunlight shine through the clouds,

Warming the earth below.

And at the mid-day,

life seems to say:"I feel your brightness near me."

For you are always...

1 watch the sunset fading away,

Lighting the clouds with sleep.

And as the evening closes its eyes,

I feel your presence near me.

For you are always...

I watch the moonlight guarding the night,

Waiting till morning comes.

The air is silent, earth is at rest -

Only your peace is near me.

Reminiscing about old school days, this hymn came into my mind, I used to love and still do this hymn amongst many others.

بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم

The clouds take no form as the single droplets of rain weave themselves out of the mache
As each spine of grass quibble for the sparse mercy to relieve their torment a girl lies in communion with the ground.
Eyes closed, the scent of moist soil so sweet and short lived.
The body longing the ground;
The ground savouring each moment .
Yearning the ecstatic breath could last a lifetime,
The value of precious time loses all meaning.
Falling into a deep slumber of emptiness
To gradually lift out of consciousness
And there amid the tranquility of silence
The music of the birds brings back to life the passing of now.
tempest