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A POEM OF ARYA

The young man sat with a tear in his eye,
And tried so hard not to cry.
Only a child at heart was he,
But, a man on the outside he had to be.

He had loved his father with the greatest of love,
And now his father was with God above.
Pavan, grant me the strength to endure this day.
And grant me the guidance to lead the way.

I'm only a boy; but, a man must I be,
To take care of my sister, my sister Kaurwaki.
Please Pavan, show me just what to do!
With your help, I'll make it through

                                                                                                   ASOKA...AFTER REFORM    

Peace flows through my heart,
Peace fills me like a fragrance.
Peace runs through me like rays.
Peace stabs the heart of noise and worries.
Peace, like an ocean, rolls on in all space.
Peace, like red blood, vitalizes the veins of my thoughts.
Peace-flames blow through the pores of my flesh…
and through all space.
The perfume of peace flows over the gardens
of blossoms.
The wine of peace runs perpetually through the wine press of all hearts.
Peace is the breath of stones, stars, and sages.
Peace is the ambrosial wine of Spirit flowing from the cask of silence,
Which I drink to quench my everlasting thirst

ASOKA - WHEN HE LOSES KAURWAKI

Anger is the feeling
I experienced when you left.
Anger that you left,
leaving me alone and unloved.
Anger that my love wasn't strong
enough to keep you by my side.
Anger that came after the pain,
but before the inner peace
that shall someday exist in me.
A peace provided by the knowledge
that although my love was rejected,
it was a love that can be rebuilt and be given again.

WHO AM I ?

Tell me; Who am I? What am I?
Why does life go on?
It was once simple--
I was me; I had one name.
Seconds, minutes, as someone's son,
Someone's brother,

I had so many names.
Hours, days,
mother dead, children unborn,
Now all alone, lonely, names are gone.
No one calls to me in love or lust,
Fear or pain, nor even anger.

No one cares. No one wants. No one needs.
Lips no longer whisper my name,
Hearts no longer hear it.
Amid voiceless images, vacant, silent.

I long for the sound of my name.
No one answers.
Tell me--Who am I? What am I?
Where do I belong?

ASOKA ON KAURWAKI

I have no life but this,
To lead it here;
Nor any death, but lest
Dispelled from there;
Nor tie to earths to come,
Nor action new,
Except through this extent,
The Realm of You!

                                                                                ASOKA JOURNEY THROUGH LIFE

Once upon a time . . . there was a lonely wanderer,
a gray toned specter etched against a somber sky.
A few leaves fluttered only remnants
of life scattered in heaps. Then the last leaf . . . falls.

Searching . . . searching . . . for purpose, and hope.
Somehow, two sounds needing each other
come together.
Something begins to stir, sun warms, buds form,
and life begins again.

A new awareness, a reawakening that sings
and sways with the melody of spring.
A gentle lullaby soaring on joyful wings.
Remembering again how smiles curve to laughter.
New growth showing, pink blossoms blowing,
sunsets glowing and melting into night.
Wild fires of youth may burn low, but
lasting embers continue to dance and glow.
and life smiles again

THE POEM OF WAR 

Above the soil so delicately trod,
Trees and mountains standing are.
Many have fallen in the path,
But who will calculate how far?

Distance measured by what we take,
Leaves scatter for the wind to rake.
Never looking back to see,
All the destruction in their wake.

With every new life a breath is yet,
While beyond the dawn a horizon sets.
What do we leave the young,
If we do not pay our debt.

For looking down the road of man,
Seeing all the greed that fills his hand.
Once the hourglass is dropped,
Who will be there to recover the sand?

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