Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to reshape souls and roots and skies,
A time to give your heart to everyone
Freely, like a rich and lavish sun,
Like a burning star to those whose lonely sighs
Show need of such a time for love and fun.

For children first, whose pain is never done,
Whose bright white fire of anguish never dies,
It's time to give your heart to every one,

That not one angel fall, to hatred won
For lack of ears to listen to her cries,
Or arms to carry him towards love and fun,

Or friends to care what happens on the run
To adult life, where joy or sadness lies.
It's time to give your heart to everyone,

For God loves all, and turns His back on none,
Good or twisted, ignorant or wise.
Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to give your heart to everyone.

We encourage people to believe
that there is only one identity, one role,
one way for them to be,
one value for them to fulfill,
rather than a host of possible 'incarnations'
to be lived in a lifetime."

Sidney M. Jourard

Perhaps you want a moment for reflection
Or a glimpse of someone's struggles with perfection.
Even greyhounds need a clear, still light
To bring them to the precipice of night.
Rest here, then, where joys and sorrows blend;
Yearning needs no goal and has no end.
Be like a bell, and let me be your tongue:
Your thoughts will toll when I've your passions rung.

Nor can I know what words will strike your ears:
In poems one's life transfigures what one hears.
Clear words contain a silence still as glass,
Horizons as remote as distant brass,
Old meanings darting luminous in pools
Like light caught in the blaze of well-cut jewels.
All this exists like sound without a bell;
So be its instrument, and listen well.

Give my poems the courtesy of space;
Often they need room to show their grace.
Reason works quite wonderfully by day;
Darkness must be grasped another way.
On you the moon, with muted, mirrored beams,
Now casts its lace of memories and dreams.

Bombay for beauty
Delhi for majestry,
Madras for cooking
Kashmir for looking,
Kerela for dance
Mysore for romance,
Punjab for fighting
Maharastra for writing,
Himachal for pines
Madhya Pradesh for wines,
Rajasthan for sand
Uttar Pradesh for band,
Andra Pradesh for water
Gujarat for potter,
India is my nation.
Ahmedabad is my station.

Computer Game

I was sitting in front of my computer playing a game
Though I played it a lot, I still cannot remember its name.
Every time I lost, I felt it was a shame, with only myself to blame,
Then I'd try again and again, until victory I'd claim;
I'd try again for mastery, until the game I'd tame
I needed no other reason, money, valor, nor fame.

I was thinking about the concept of reincarnation,
Was it real or merely a human mental creation?
Could it be that we are reborn until we master the game of life?
Again and again play this game, until we master both joy and strife?/p>

Then I gave my attention to the much bigger concept of Creation
Could it be that God is sitting at his computer work station
Creating a universe on his screen and playing it to either its self-destruction
Or master this spatial-temporal game until it reaches perfection?
And try again and again until God masters the nature of evolution,
Mastery God's only reason, not learning, growth, nor dissolution.

The Crystal Gazer


I shall gather myself into my self again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.
I shall fuse them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.
I Shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent.
Watching the future come and the present go -
And the little shifting pictures of people rushing
In tiny self-importance to and fro.

Wedding Poems