The Void.

   The Void.

The echoes in a void mind

Are like still born babies.

One who cannot and does not love,

Sees the emptiness exploding

Into atoms of annoying nothing.

A mind filled with warmth of love

Rejuvenates, reverberates and is heard

Like  the cries of healthy babies born to rule.

God takes a holiday from shrines
Crowded with picnic thoughts 
Rather than souls seeking solace.

The presence of God is in the gathering

Of those who assemble never to dissemble.

Prayers emanating from patterns of true love

Reach the ears of God in their original form.

The voice of the Supreme, with its wield

Makes resplendent  responses to those

That replenish love and joy and hope for all.

All holy books hold on to one decoding device.

But man tries to decode them with different tools.

Stand, kneel, prostrate; but pervert not the path,

With traffic encumbrances of echoes of emptiness .

                                               P.Chandrasekaran.