Alpana Naik

Loneliness arrives quickly , Setting deep within the heart , Like an unanswered question , That lingers in the dark . It feels like a beautiful story , Without a painter , A canvass waiting , Silent untouched and incomplete . In solitude , You become the painter of your own world , With a single colour of awareness , You begin to light the canvass of your life . What was felt empty , Slowly and gently , Becomes full of meaning

Illusions are the silent creations of the mind , Woven from desires ,fears , expectations and memories . They appear real because we breathe life into them . We imagine , we assume we build stories and slowly these stories begin to rule us . An illusion is not always a lie from the world , Often it is a misunderstanding understanding born within . And then one day it breaks . In that moment a whirlwind arises within , Confusion , hurt , dissapointment , shame . Reveal what we held as truth , Was only a fragile construction . Why are we intertwined in illusions . Because the ego seeks comfort . The mind would rather believe a sweet illusion , Than stand in the naked truth of reality . Through tapas , discipline ,awareness ,the seeker begins to watch the mind , The stories loose their power , Attachments loose their grip , What once seemed solid begins to dissolve . Tapas does not destroy illusions , It gently burns them , In the quiet fire of awareness , And then the whirlwind settles , A deep silence arises within .

Resplendent in form in sacred attire you shine , A vision of beauty , both tender and sublime , Your presence enchants , a radiant embrace , Drawing all hearts into your grace . Devotees are pulled by your luminous play , Lost in the charm of your divine display , In every gesture compassion flows , In every glance , pure wisdom glows . Yet those who turn inward , silent and still , Seeking beyond form beyond thought and will , Find you not as image , nor name to adore , But the vast , formless truth at the core. Form is your beauty , formless your truth , The end of all seeking the ultimate truth In both you reveal the ultimate way , One mother , an infinite display . .

Silent tears , Rarely ask to be noticed . They arrive quietly , Behind composed smiles , Within tired eyes , Within hearts learning , How to carry what words cannot hold . Not every sorrow breaks loudly , Some grief enters softly , Like evening light fading from a room ,like memory returning , Without warning . It lingers in ordinary moments , In familiar songs , Empty spaces , Half finished conversations , And the silence left behind by love . The world often notices loud pain , But silent tears belong to deeper oceans , They are the ache hidden , Beneath calm voices ,and gentle laughter . Yet even sorrow , Holds something sacred . For those who have wept quietly , Often learn how to love tenderly , How to sit with another s pain , How to recognise the invisible weight people carry . And slowly ,through all that was lost , The heart begins to soften , Instead of harden . The tears may become quieter , But they never truly dissappear , They simply transform into compassion , And a gentler way of seeing the world .

Life has quietenend down , The chitter chatter seems to have gone The mind feels quiet and alert , One can hear the soft breathing sound . The birds chirping on the trees , The crows croaking all around , The soft rustle of the leaves , Makes life go along ..