What stays with man finally, is his essential being

The unreal sheds off, like this body, upon our death.

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, a renowned poet and writer from Chandigarh, India, shares his mystic poetry

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, based in Chandigarh, is an Indian poet and scholar credited with 170 plus books of English literature, philosophy and spirituality. He won great Serbian Award Charter of Morava and his name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was honored with Seneca Award LAUDIS CHARTA by Academy of Arts & Philosophical Sciences, Bari, Italy 2024. He is Founder President of the International Academy of Ethics and conferred Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) by University of Engineering & Management, (UEM) Jaipur. Email anandjs55@yahoo.com 

Biblio-link: https://sites.google.com/view/bibliography-dr-jernal-singh/home   

UNREAL

The stature of the man

Who suffers and falls

Is much taller

Than the one

Who engineers his fall.

People who believe in good

Whom fate corrupts

And who commit fouls

Are finally saved

For being innocent

It is a matter of ‘kirdar’

How righteous a man is

In his thought and action

He falls only when

Pushed from the cliff

What stays with man finally

Is his essential being

The unreal sheds off

Like this body

Upon our death.

***

ILL – USION

I was moving and moving

In a crazy passion

Thinking

I was not alone

Someone stood behind me

With me,

Around me

And beside me.

Everywhere I found

A loving presence

Which filled me with joy

And a feeling of security

That some divine eye

Always kept me

In its attendance

What a feeling it was

What a confidence

What a joy

That I possessed

The heart of a soulful being

Who was physically

So far away

Then, one day,

I found it all reduced to an ill-usion

Looked around to find

The presence had disappeared

Only an image

I could see moving around

Splintered on winds.

***

Restless heart – painting courtesy: Pinterest

UNLOVED?

There was a shrine

Visited by a thousand desires

Loved by as many passions

Attended day and night

In a holy obeisance.

One day when the desires thronged the site

They found the shrine missing

They have now turned crazy

And are running riot

Looking for the shrine.

A deep wound was left behind

At the sacred site

From where

The monument of love

Had disappeared.

These desires, these passions

This restless body, this calmless mind

And this risping wound

Ye gods.

Are they not evidence enough

I did not die unloved?