By Kamlesh Tripathi


It springs up every time,

That clutter in my empty mind,

And each time,

It only reminds me of wasted times.


If empty mind is a devil’s workshop,

A cluttered mind is a spooky den,

Where emptiness is a result of nothingness,

And clutter an offshoot of everythingness.


When I began doing things,

 I came out of my empty mind,

But by doing too many things at a time,

I cluttered my mind,

But whether it is the empty or the clutter,

Both smother the poetry of life.


And in this baffling world of mine,

One wonders at times,

From where to begin,

And where to end, the acrobats of life.


At times even the almighty—the mind … fails to act,

And slumps into emptiness,

And succumbs to everythingness,

And deviates from equilibrium,

Where, one only wonders why?


One day when I opened my eyes to see my mind,

I could only see zigzag and criss-cross of empty lines,

And that revealed the reasons,

For the clutter in my empty mind.


And thereafter,

I decided each day I would scan my mind,

And would meditate,

To remove,

The malwares floating in my mind.


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