The Mountains of Mystery

In the mountains of mystery, you have one chance

And one chance only.

It’s a one way trip,

People do not know what fate awaits them,

They never return to see the light of day.

In the mountains of mystery,

The breeze is full of lies and mischief,

The echoing sounds of people who once went here

Warn you to get out while you can.

In the mountains of mystery,

You might spot a faceless body or a skull or two.

Unbeknownst to you,

Eyes watch your every step

From the first pebble

To the last boulder.

In the mountains of mystery,

Faces of people carved on rocks

Mouth words unknown to man.

In the mountains of mystery,

The last thing you see in your life

Is a man in a black hood.

Then your entire life flashes before your very eyes.

By Anand Sairam

God's abode

Some were good and others not so,
Some planned the words on their stones;
Others fell totally unaware.

Eternal sleep of men deep under,
Earthly chores pain them no more,
Womb to tomb it’s the same journey for all,
Mighty God’s abode awaits us all.

Nor we know where we're from, nor we know where we go,
Some think they come back, others say ‘I go no where’,
Those who went sent no message, those here can’t stay forever.

Men not know what fate has in store,
Wobbling drop on a waxy leaf, 
Just mere mortals we all are,
Can’t hold on forever,
Enjoy the ride while it lasts; 
Let it go when it’s your chime.

In response to a photo in http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10200205944620228.192358.1500463144&type=3#!/photo.php?fbid=10200399083568581&set=a.10200205944620228.192358.1500463144&type=3&theater

Longing for Spring

Longing for Spring

Roads sprayed with a glazed frost,
Skies painted with a sober grey,
Leafless trees succumb to wind’s every blow,
Even the mighty Sun has given up, resting in the far west,
The weeping willow dried herself into a pale yellow,
The world awaits sprouts, bluebells and the arrival of the Spring.

Wrote in response to a FB picture http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10200205944620228.192358.1500463144&type=3#!/photo.php?fbid=10200364477743457&set=a.10200205944620228.192358.1500463144&type=3&theater

Possessed

Possessed:
Far off they came,
travelled through time,
dug from where they lay,
brushed all dust aside,
relics on parade.
Queues of men gaze,
file past in awe,
long on epochs bygone.
Men hoard on things a craze,
things hold on men a curse.
Homeless freeze on thy streets,
a warm palace for these vintage,
shame on you men,
shame on you men.

In response to the FB post:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10200205944620228.192358.1500463144&type=3#!/photo.php?fbid=10200239006686759&set=a.10200205944620228.192358.1500463144&type=3&theater