Beautiful Erratic Crazy Life

Pinch press pare
Into perfection

Then prepare to
Slink into
That exact fit cubby hole
Designed for your soul.

By the collective wisdom
Of myths and mantras

Culled from trillion trials and errors
An erroneously blind
Hit and miss past
Blindly dictates steers and guides
Our masts.

Signs of life,
Significance?
Blink your eyes
And there's every chance
You'll miss
It.

We were not meant
For prim and proper
roles,
We were expected to
Break fabricated rules.

Rules?
And by who?
The wise Gurus
In every successive age
edit predecessors errors
Too.

Trust
the view.
Trust in you.
Every visible hue
Every audible tone
Is a tryst
With the true ruler of
Every realm,
And trust yourself
Your vagaries are
accommodated too.

Experience tells us
The heart scatters light.
Love like the sky.
Blue cerulean expansion
Infinity stretching languid
And in our front yard
Clouding earthly eyes 
Bolls and weevils spin dreams.
Fluffy white kittens
Gambolling, playful rough and tumble,
strange silhouettes carved by lightning strokes,
Majestic rumbles of God's thundering,
The drama of the universe
In microcosm.

Whoever is the creator
Did not wish to be
the controller.

Erratic beautiful crazy life
Chance and honor might survive
With love as our guide
Courage sheathed in steel knuckles
Obdurate at the sides
And kindness
the only light
Opening up our eyes.
We were never meant to be,
Automatons
Of obedience.

Now we savor with our senses
Feathery whimsical cirrus alliances
Contented curlicued cotton Cumulus
Threats impending heed the
Graying Cumulonimbus
Run for cover when what awaits us
Hard and heavy flatline Stratus.

We are all the moods
all the mindsets
All the prayers
and all the curses
All the shadows
All the loss and gain
Of every mind.
We are
The vision
The seer
And
The blind.

And so then there were none.

Rules scattered 
Rayleigh particles
Spreading love
igniting rubies in the sunset...

Myth and mantra killers,
Eros rising,
Forever expanding
exponentially.

Cages cannot contain
The soul of the thinking feeling
Beast.
All that it ever does
Is trap some meat
Carving out indolent shapes
With our cookie cutters of
Prejudices.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016