The Muse

There exists a universe where I'm known as Lima. You aren't allowed there.
There exists another universe in which Lima walks. You are already here.
You have entered because you can appreciate style while ignoring content. You had been warned.
P.S. Don't bash me up if you find haiku or plain prose here.

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Non je regrette rien

I woke up this morning unadorned,
Shorn of the vestments of fret and care,
I woke up to a lovely winter morning,
The fire in the hearth still ablaze.

My eyes gummed in sleep, breath misty,
Untangling my legs from the sheets and dreams,
I hopped down from my feathery bed,
To meet the cold stone floor of reality.

Thursday, December 12, 2013


In thy lofty snow-covered abode,
O Parents of the Universe,
You reside in domestic harmony,
Playing your lofty games of chance.

You have made the gaming GUI,
The NPC's and the storyline,
And have descended into it,
As a thousand googol Avatars.

Even as you roll the dice,
The players walk their diverse roads,
With choice and chance and strategy,
They build their own realities.

O Parents of the world, thou art
The moderators of all realities,
Although you have made us many rules,
Only one of them rules them all.

For reality is but a game,
Its sole object is blameless fun,
Amusement is its constitution,
And all its laws subordinate.

O Parents of the world, tell me,
How can I progress in this game?
I have level-grinded for an eternity,
Yet am devoid of quests or fun.

Tell me am I destined to be,
An Ekaterina or a Shankari,
Will I be an expression of your third eye?
Or the gentle glance of your serenity?

Thursday, November 21, 2013


Alas, dear sun, your light is lost,
In the fog of wintry revelation,
O lowly earthen lamp you are,
The one true hope of salvation.

Alas I was distracted by,
The glory of your glare and glow,
And I ignored my faithful lamp,
Which burns but softly, steady and slow.

Perhaps my hatred was but a dream,
And my love eclipsed by pride,
For the chilly winds of the truth have blown,
My misconceptions aside.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

The Company

The confluence of human needs,
With that of human charity,
Creates a plankton breeding ground,
Of hard work and hilarity.

Some desperate, some talented,
Ambitious some, some plain relieved,
All have arrived, post diligence,
Complacent some, some still on heat.

Years of toil have brought forth spoils,
Yet spoiled their prospects elsewhere,
Avast! For this might still repair,
Their previous drought of humanity.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

The Road to Paradise

In the spire of dreams I dwell
Ketaki is my name,
From my lofty perch I spy
My maker's lofty game

My maker does make many worlds
Filled with peaks and vales,
And peoples of a myriad kind   
Starring in myriad tales               

They live in vain it seems to me
And die in equal vain,              
They live in hope of paradise
But all they get is pain

Grieved by all their futile ways
My maker, I advise
Please build them a road, my Lord
A road to the paradise

The road is always there, my child
It shines by the light of my eyes
'Tis visible even from thy abode
My road to paradise

Atop the spire of dreams I spy
And sure as day it lies
Gleaming 'neath the moonlit sky
The road to paradise

Go then to the golden end
And set the standard gold
Lead then thou my children on
The road to Paradise

I descend therefore, I take the path
But the sheer length exhausts me
I crawl and walk and run toward 
The road to paradise

Somewhere along that lonely trail
I perceive some company
Delighted thus I journey on
The road to paradise

Presently our merry mob
Ceases to be One
And before we know it, we've left
The road to paradise

Distracted by our many-ness
Branded as kin or foe
We play our silly games around
The road to paradise

And in this semi-ignorance
We're born and we live and die
Never free yet never bound to  
The road to paradise

Like a poem stumbles on metric feet
From abstraction to verse
Some of our numbers recall            
The road to paradise

They scratch their heads and search their hearts       
And trace their tracks and roots
And remember My descent into
The road to paradise

For I was neither born nor dead
Not of this world was I
I was a lonely treader of
The road to paradise

And from my sheer single-ness
I constructed the throng
And therefore dug a pothole in
The road to paradise

Through this game of lost and found
My Maker did admonish
Know thyself and know thee thus
The road IS paradise