THE BANKRUPT – MYSTIC POETRY FROM INDIA

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Gods liquidated my bank

Which had accumulated losses

And become a red entry

In the divine exchequer.

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

Jernail Singh Anand- Sindh CourierDr. 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   

ReparativeHealth2THE BANKRUPT

Life gives you some capital

And then waits

You multiply it

Or just squander.

 

There are very few people

The most wealthy

Who know the art

And they strike gold.

 

I was clumsy

Didn’t know the art

Of love and expansion

So, finally turned bankrupt.

 

Loving myself was no virtue

Doing so much was just amiss

Where was the art?

Where was bliss?

 

Gods liquidated my bank

Which had accumulated losses

And become a red entry

In the divine exchequer.

***

ignorange-altruism-selfishness-neuroscienceCONTRABAND

I learnt every art

By my heart

There was so much

On the earth to learn

And the knowledge of the world

Made me realize

How ignorant I was.

 

I wondered at the gods

Who has sent me into this world.

So ill equipped

Or given me currency

Which did not run

In this land.

They looked at me like contraband.

 

Love was the first narcotic

For which they arrested me

And the second charge was

My innocence

Ignorance of law is no excuse

They said, and brought me to court.

 

You cannot look at this world

With an equal eye

You have to belong to

Some or the other religion

This is the color

And this is the language

Fill your ribs with poison and start hating.

 

This was the knowledge

I was short of, gods,

In which world you live

And what is the world to which you sent me?

They give me inferiority complex

And I have joined a University

To drive away love, innocence and equanimity.

_______________ 

Read: THE CREATOR OF CONFUSIONS – MYSTIC POETRY FROM INDIA

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