I was chatting with a friend today and she was feeling so down. I really felt for her and suddenly, “the monk in me” surprised both of us. You never know how much of life lessons or wisdom you have until something happens.
I look back and wish that I had made the right choices always, that there was someone to advise me whenever I needed to and that I took on that advice. But the past is a page written with a broken pen if all we remember is it’s sorrows.
What do you remember? How do you choose to remember your story? For the future is set like the sun, to rise again. The only path is to the grave. So how I walk this day? If I could make all the right decisions to achieve success, happiness or love, whatever else there is to obtain in this new day, how I wish I could be this wise everyday.
But I fail, don’t I? And you fail, don’t you? We are the broken vases watered every morning, only to lose our water before the heat of the midday. And so we watch our flowers wither. Our petals become frail. But don’t we come out strong? When the sun falls, we come alive with the dew on our skins, because we have each other.
Well I appreciate you for taking your time to read through my poems and here is the dialogue of the monk in me and my friend
PoetR : How are you feeling?
She: Stressed and tired
PoetR: You just want it to end
PoetR: It has stopped
PoetR: Where are you now?
She: It doesn’t stop
She: Turn off the mind
PoetR: Just for a moment
PoetR: Find the peace within
PoetR: The rhythm that connects it all
PoetR: Relate to it,
and inside, where understanding meets the mind, you will know happiness
At least how to find rest in this turbulent world
PoetR: And now I feel like a monk
She: You sound like a monk
PoetR: I know! Stuff just flows