Pandora's Box

The cataclysms of the mind
The concoctions, the inordinate presumptions
The sheer temerity of the spirit
To rise, to fall, to die, to sleep no more
With every breath, thy lungs they fill
Of stronger and stronger will
The spirit that informs our very being
Breathes life into thy mortal form






Making mountains out of moles and
Moles out of mountains
No foe is inconsequential, no friend indispensable
No emotion is unwanted, no feeling irreplaceable
Of love unrequited, no emotion comes close
Like chained up stallions set free
Thy emotions, they prance forth with regal strides
They search, they ponder, often do they wonder
Out there, beyond all yonder
The lure of a promised bliss
One could just as easily miss
The trees for the woods and the woods for the trees
Oh dear life, is it not all about the birds and the bees


It is morning again, the sun beseeches
A warm radiance, a sublime glow
The darkness of night is no more
The shadows they grow shorter and shorter
The illuminating light grows stronger and stronger
To reveal forms far more sinister
One almost wishes the shadows would now return
For they would at least conceal
Those that ought not to be revealed
In everyday faces, in everyday emotions
Lie depths of feeling hidden
Of yearnings unfulfilled
Of Love unrequited
Of desires unmet
Of hopes dashed
These and more are best uncalled for
For they are certainly not gifts in one's Christmas Socks
But are more like monsters in a Pandora's Box.

- Dr. Bhagirath. S. N  (2017)