We are all here,
with our little domains,
Trying to communicate…

Harmony and serenity
May live in one,
Strife and war in another.
To exist on earth,
Without taste of calm,
Is a dwell,
Between two hands of one.

Stillness is the oil,
Rub and polish
The rusty inner doors.
Only continuously reflects
The ever new joy
Of opening without noise.
A journey from restless demon
To a blissful soul.

In a middle of a chaos and noises,
A bird sits on a thin wire,
Unmoved and sings…

We never ask,
What makes a bird sing?
Is she happy or sad,
Is she calling her mate,
Is it caused by her needs
Or is the source of her joy,
What is behind this consistency
Through different seasons.

Perhaps this is her way
To practice love,
Meditate on green leaves,
Repeats mantra with each drop of rain
Merge the inner and outer
In one song.

When motion ceases,
God beings.

© Serena Devi, March 2010, Thornhill Canada

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