When the Mirror Cracked

It wasn’t always like this.

But lately, I’ve begun to notice it more — the tremble in my breath, the tightening of the jaw, the sudden flush of heat when things don’t go as I’d hoped. Not with the world outside. I’ve made peace with its chaos. It’s the people closest to me that stir the storm.

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The Gentle Art of Living the Mystery

I wanted to witness a lotus bloom at sunrise.

So, for several days, I had been returning to the same quiet lake—sitting in still anticipation, just before dawn, wrapped in silence and a bit of childlike hope. There was something about the idea—a flower opening itself to light, not with force, but with grace—that called to me. On one of those mornings, as mist curled over the surface of the water like a secret unfolding, I saw it happen—not in an explosion, but in a gentle yielding. And in that hushed moment, something inside me softened.

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Grace in the now


Grace in the Now

The sun, the giver, rises slow,
Its golden truth begins to flow.
The water, quiet, carries time—
A silent chant, a sacred rhyme.

I sit within this moving grace,
The boat—my path, this life—my place.
Let not the waves seep through the side,
For ego sinks what soul must ride.

A lotus blooms, so still, so high,
Unmoved beneath the tainted sky.
It loves, yet clings to none at all—
Rooted deep, yet heeds the call.

No need for praise, no need for name,
This now, this breath, is all the flame.
Observe. Surrender. Let it be—
Shānti within, the only key.
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