enslaving my soul

with rising of the sun

common ravens

ring-billed gulls

and on rarer occasions

the lesser loud black-billed

magpies

living in the broader margin

carved by ambitious likes of mine

and me

come to my window

they sing sweeter songs

of sturdy sovereignty

made possible only by a mind

willing

to crucify the bloated ego

without concurrently proclaiming

a pseudo puritanical life style!

as i stop my soul

to listen to their call

to abandon ambitions

i shut my eyes

and plug my ears

(as if someone beside me is snoring)

and bury my body

deep into my comfy bed

shutting

also, the window

refusing a musical light

and lessons provided

by thoughtful birds

my winged companions

by this i enslave

my pitiful soul

in personal

but tainted imaginings

henry victor     22.08.2002

no magic

my love for ease prevents that release

of the creative energy
stored deep within my soul
my fear to take risk fails to kick

the engine that needs a kick-start

leaving me in bed
to the comfort of that lie:
my body needs more sleep

i then turn to you for cheap grace

believing the unbelievable
until you kick me on my face
to pull myself together

and work hard for my release

or, to be damned in that relief of my own
more sleep and slumber
that knowledge, in my mind, increase:

that with you there is no magic

turning stones into bread
or, skipping the consequences
of my acts – good, or bad

while i focus not on the worth

of wealth, immerse me in the wisdom
that makes you to send the sun
shine on both good and evil

and the rain on wheat and weeds

viewing the wayside pampas grass
in the same way
you glance at the great oak