Thoughts, Self and Soul

Thoughts are like the wind,

They pass through the mind,

To bring spells of emotions,

And leave the impressions, 

That stay profound in the heart,

Plunges the self in Maayaart:

Sometimes, cool like a Winter,

Sometimes, furious like a Summer,

In the misty mixed feelings of the Monsoon,

In the Fall of Autumn,

With the narrow worry of a brook,

With Magnanimous unending ocean,

Still, like a pond,

Turbulent as the streamflow,

On the mountain of ambition,

Under the slumber of depression,

In the valley of bliss,

On the cliff of guilt,

In the sweet memories of the past,

With the anxious blow of the future,

Thoughts wander every emotion,

Only to find the self nowhere.

I turn inward and find the soul,

The part of the divine,

That whispers in heart,

I am in the present.

I am in the present.