Monday, November 2, 2015


(378)  Asha asha kare

In expectations,
So many lives transpired.
Yet, of those expectations,
None are fulfilled.

They did not happen–
Those that were in my mind.
Those that I never wanted–
They came in abundance.
Whenever love occurred,
It was honey-coated comings and goings,
Always departing,
Gratifying only for a span of time.

Touring the flower garden,
Thorns arose at each step.
In the gentle southern breeze,
I met with a cyclone.
I've now realized that my expectations
Are like a mirage;
The disappointments at the end of hope
Are Your two rosy feet.

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1 comment:

  1. Happiness is fleeting. His lotus feet are the wellspring of bliss.