He and I

When he looks at the sky, he just looks at the sky.
When I look at the sky, sometimes I don't even notice it.

When he eats, he just eats.
When I eat, I read or hear news.

When he smiles, he just smiles.
When I smile, there is a reason.

When he looks at me, he just looks at me.
When I look at him, I profile him.

When he listens, he just listens.
When I listen, I prepare to reply.

His smile has a child like lightness.
My smile has a labourer's burden.

Even when he looks without, he comes from within.
Even when I look within, I am without.

When he doesn't speak, the whole of him is silent.
Even when I don't speak, I am not silent.

He lives without preferences and prejudices.
I'm neck deep in them.

He simply loves, trusts and lets go.
I fear, doubt and hold on.

He is rooted in spirit.
I am stuck in the mind.

He is enlightened.
I am an intellectual.

In the deepest core of me

In the deepest core of me
breath flows as symphony
and life flows as poetry. 

The Dance of Light

In the unknown distant future, 

when the lamps are burning low, 

a light will emerge from the dark

and draw us towards its glow. 

Such would be its purity 

and wondrous magnificence,

that just like moths of light 

we would choose obsolescence. 

We won't know its end,

nor would we see its origin; 

without a slightest care 

we would jump right in. 

We would joyously celebrate 

by unbridled singin' and dancin', 

when we realize that the light without 

is really a resplendent glow within.