poetry

Jataka Bandi

Content

In poverty’s grasp, the scholar stands tall,  
Death comes to all, both great and small.  
I dwell in the infinite, serene and free,  
Content with my lot, why worry should be?
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Helplessness

In life, we’re often led to lean,  
On others when times are unseen.  
But helplessness is a shadow we cast,  
Independence—a wish that lasts.  

Misery is a path we choose,  
Despite what life might give or lose.  
Be good, be useful, true to you,  
With all you have, with all you do.  

No one knows the storm inside,  
Yet how you treat is where you decide.  
With love and respect as your guide,  
The world will work, stand by your side.
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Procession

Life is a journey, winding and wide,  
In stillness or travel, we stride.  
Each step we take, a part of the dance,  
In the grand procession, we find our chance.  

In one place or many, we seek our way,  
Marking time, making history’s clay.  
Through paths unknown or familiar lands,  
We carve our story with our own hands.  

In the tapestry of time, we find our thread,  
In this journey of life, by heart we’re led.  
Finding our place, in moments we see,  
A part of the whole, in harmony.
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