Author note: This is something my father was working on for a very long time. Seeing as the regular publishers charge money to even look at you manuscript, he decided to get me, his daughter, to post online for him. If you have the patience to read and understand, then I ask from the bottom of my heart for you to leave a review. This is something that means a lot to my dad and he would like to know what you think.

MEDITATIONS

By

Rajroop D. Ramdayal

MEDITATIONS

Dedicated to:

My Mother: Mary Mangri Ramdayal

My Father: Peter Munus Ramdayal

"I AM SORRY I WAS NOT A BETTER SON."

Mes Delices

Canal # 1

GUYANA Jan. 2005

ACEL PUBLISHING

Copyright Rajroop D. Ramdayal

MMV

ACEL BOOKS

Mes Delices/7

Canal #1 Polder

West Bank Demerara.

GUYANA

1

We met so briefly

And then only to be parted

When our minds moved away

From it all.

2

When men live

By reason alone

Should that reason admit

To nothing false,

Then mere instinct

Rings like hollow drums.

3

One man left

and came back

with my life.

Another man came

and left

with my soul.

4

I found a stone

It was lying

next to my heart.

5

You to you ?

nothing is ever complete,

Listen,

you will never know

anything completely.

6

What if the soul which left

Him that is no more

Should at last awake

And waking now

Is given its due?

What secrets would it not have

to tell

And having told,

would it kiss me once again

Speak to me once more,

And then one last time

Let me pass

But not too soon.

7

Why should the night

desire to wait?

It is I who paid

for the morning.

8

So what if the moon never

beams on my face,

And the sun should not

blaze fiercely from my breast.

Should I be disagreeable

That I was merely given

a number?

After all I am merely

the other edition

Of the man who once passed

through my grandfather's door.

9

Child,

Come sit with me awhile.

I

Am all the time

You have left.

Look,

does the sea care

that it has nowhere

to go?

10

The lamp that flickers

pensively,

Is like the child

asleep in the other room.

11

Sing all things are here

For man to make his mortal claim.

12

When was love reproved

Not love that was madness?

Time slumbers

on the shoulders of men.

Live is like a smile

used more than once.

Wisdom overcomes,

Ignorance overwhelms.

13

There is a silence there

in heaven,

That makes the beggar weep.

There sits a stranger on a throne

That makes the thief

all smug, not worn.

There burns a fire

in hell's deep well,

That heaps true scorn

this full ocean's swell

Heaven or hell, in our own day,

is ours now, in every way.

13

He is not free

Who hides himself

From his own curiosity

14

Observe the day

That is all too short.

Take note of the night

That is all too long.

What if there be no night

But day?

Then night she sleeps,

The sleep that in time

Must hold all life fair

In unequal sway.

15

One breath awakened

all life.

All life is put to naught

with one breath.

16

To see

We must discover

The blindness

That is in ourselves.

At my door I can hear

the baying sounds of hounds,

Come to rouse the fox

out of his lair.

17

Child, if your tears

are your mother's pearls

Should not your laughter

be your father's gems?

Child, without your tears

and your laughter,

Would not your life

be all the shorter?

18

Truth hear me

And then went its way

I came thinking of myself

as a man,

Until I saw the ant

in its mud palaces.

19

Show me the line

Upon which if I should walk,

Life would be without its turning.

Show me another line,

Upon which if I should walk

Life would not be returning.

For the life that turns with the line

That is turning

Turns full circle

With it's every turning.

20

Where was the day

when I was hungry?

Where was the night

when I was weary?

I am ignorant

Ignorant of my soul's

God longings.

Death, what have you

Done….?

Childhood joys

are life's ageless toys.

21

We sisters

are daughters

with one face.

22

God died

When death came to life

God is not perfect

All fools can moo

or bray.

But not a single fowl can

eat of hay.

Do not die before you

close your eyes.

23

Weep the eyes grow dim,

that wet the furrowed cheeks.

Laugh the mouth falls dumb

that mourns the pitted teeth.

For time in moving pushes all aside

And without our knowing

we abide,

With the rot that is of our own

sowing.

24

My time in all

Is but too short.

When done

I'll go.

I'll have a look

And perhaps I will

come again.

25

Why if falsehood

Be failure's friend,

Should not success' charms

be certainties' chains?

The curtain that came

down today,

Were open for business

until yesterday.

Will you try your wares

next door,

With those who wait

upon the thirteenth floor?

26

I know that I

am here.

You

do you know

If your brother is here

wandering aimlessly, somewhere

In this building

which has no stairs?

27

Why does the self

That is myself

Exist merely for itself?

Which man was always what

he is now?

All things forever change,

For that is the thread that runs

through it all.

28

The moon that lazed

on the glazed tops of frozen ponds,

Came out half dressed

to shout its tale,

"It is my brother who has

a tender heart."

Where there is much sorrow

there also is great

LOVE

29

Whatever reason fathered

Truth,

Did also mother error

along the way.

Take to the full

Your tomorrows,

For today too,

Will too soon

Be your yesterday.

30

When was there a half-way

inn to belief?

When reason ends

faith begins.

Wealth like poverty

has its cares.

A cow flew past me

screaming,

"Crows are mooing in

the meadows."

31

Why wait for the

sunshine?

Take the dawn.

Its waiting lingers,

like the stranger beneath

The street lamps.

32

There is an ideal

Which brings from all men sights

They prosper too

in such false beliefs

by swindling joy.

They labour like cattle

and dwindle

Like old dreams,

which too often

are all but dreamed away.

33

For today learn together

Tomorrow you may have

Neither

You!

You think you have given

your children everything,

They have today

But not tomorrow.

What of tomorrow?

34

The light which comes through

under your door,

Will run the whole length

in your every tour.

"What! You are up?" asks

the night.

"The hour is all too late?"

says the bell that rings.

"I ring to tell you, you'll

never ring again."

35

I have no time

To think of this.

For the next witness

Is already sworn.

My life was my burden

Not my gift.

When there is strife

There is decay.

36

It was I,

Whom I should have taught,

How to be free.

If poverty is live

bereft of glamour,

Then defeat is the Pilgrim

without a message.

Distance is measured

In how far I will be

From here tomorrow

37

Charities are like

the gifts of nature

There is panic

when left unemployed

If the fruits of the great

vineyard

Are enough to shield

the wrongdoer,

Then, should not also

the incapacities of poverty

Be enough to mitigate

the inferiority of the poor?

38

As liberty decreases

So too responsibility

Increases.

When reasons fly

To waylay reason sound,

All men bear common bond

As mischief walks afoot

And ignorance shapes

what would center as its works

39

If reason formulates,

It is experience that

Informs

If nature exhibits

cunning,

Is it not man who

preaches rather than

practices?

40

If even the chick

Has its gatherer,

The sheaves of wheat,

The ears of corn,

Would not the children

of tomorrow, too

Fulfill the needs of the Harvest?

There is a tenderness in tears

that chides even time,

And the best of remedies.

Did wise counsel

ever prevail,

Against fate?

41

Watch dog why bark?

The thing is done.

The night is gone,

And all is lost.

There is only memory.

What have you given

me for this journey?

The gift to teach painting

to the blind?

And music to the deaf?

42

A good warm heart

can be found just as easily

In wretched huts,

As well as in abandoned stables.

An easy life is a good way

To give the lie to words.

When were the odds ever

mere magic,

Or pure reason.

43

Those leaves

Those twigs

Those bones

This earth

They are reminders

Whole pages

For tutored minds.

There is that wheel

That turns with the darkness

Where questions ask themselves,

And wait before me.

44

Man is in flight

From God.

Wisdom results from thoughts

Wrested from life.

There are wells of truth

To be found

Outside the self.

Witness MY MEDITATIONS

The moon in its madness

Moves about even without sight.

45

Hate can turn love

Into a wall of stones

When was shame ever spoilt

By being in the dirt all day

Love persuades

without giving reasons,

And in persuading

withholds reason.

46

Things do not occur

Blindly.

All will be made clear

To both Apes

And Man.

Friend, he who knows nothing

Knows naught of even the self.

And he who knows everything

Knows how to forget

Even the self.

Count that day lost

If a task begun

Sees the morning,

But, does not in the evening

See the end.

47

If experiences consolidates

thoughts,

It is the heart that

accepts and converts truth.

To stand alone and superior,

Is to stand alone.

Such is the lot of cynics.

Dead trees are like

dead souls,

Gnarled and useless

48

I will come before the lilies

Bloom,

Before candidates too lonely for

idolatry,

And villains too lonely with their

infamy,

I will come again

with a willingness to be

content, to hew new trails

for sleeping men,

If only to sneak into the admiration

of other men.

My soul awoke to the chimes of

clocks,

One solitary night,

Only to count the strokes of

history wrong.

49

Beauty is a result,

Not an ideal

Reason tempts the mind.

Faith prompts the

soul.

We played in the same gardens

of childhood,

With its fields of

silent consent,

If only we had remained

children,

Even then.

50

Even the head that is bowed

for a season,

Can turn a field of stones

from hate,

Before the throne of

God.

Truth knows nothing

of obscurity.

It is the nature

That understands

Without thought

That attracts God.

51

How can any man

open his heart

If it is nothing more

than a mud palace.

Who dares to be himself?

He who has met the enemy?

Who dares to be more than himself?

He who has not enemy?

If a smile is like the green grass

Among the ruins,

The laughter is like shattered fragments

turned to dust.

52

If fate should provide

the foundation for hate,

Should not faith be

the seed bed for love?

Reason is not the most comprehensive

of virtues,

It is like a child weeping

over a dead bird.

A young nestling practiced

at juggling,

Amidst the deadwoods and wondered:

Why do I think only of food

of talk

or even love,

I should be thankful I am alive.

53

Faith is not an act

of choice,

It is a gift of

pure love.

What is it you see

at your feet?

Your conscience?

Know you not

That it is the watchdog

of God?

Faith without soul-searching

is like a voyager

Without sails.

54

If the young have no

past,

Then the old also do not

have a future.

The night it wanders

everywhere

Only to linger fondly

over the dawn.

What life gives

today,

It takes back

tomorrow.

55

An imagination once dated

is relegated

To be mere debris in

a waste basket.

The fire that stabs

At the walls of night

Stays the day

And allows it to speak

To the dawn

The crust that is worn

thin,

Is like wrinkled face

When labor is done.

56

Humor in its train

Leaves few things untouched,

With exaggeration it sours

Into sophistication and wit.

In ridicule it forever puts

Everything in its place.

Caution filters the residues

from the watering holes

of haste.

Shared pain is shared

love.

Take love away from any

Man,

And you take life away from

him

57

Private dreams are like

paper napkins

Shame is much more

than a painful page.

Life has been given at a price

each of us can afford.

Creed that faceless vice

rules weak nature with its ways

Cheating fate

it holds all askew,

Like fishes before the bait.

58

Grief does not pass

idly by,

It waits like an old man

Holding all the dead

in its hands.

Conscience is like the

silent hunter

The watchdog of God.

The body is as good a shack

or a house,

Something of consequence

A mere casual thing,

That goes with nothingness.

59

Just as the relationship

Between Faith and Truth

Is Truth,

Life is a synthesis

Between Creed and Conduct.

The similarity between

old places

And their inhabitants,

Is that they cherish

their ghosts,

Like old barns protected

by tumbledown fences.

60

Old hearts are

Like starched aprons.

Who listens

To the dumb

But the deaf.

Love stirs feelings

and waits.

Even the heart

Has a need

Of its pastures

And watering holes.

61

It is good to avoid

the beaten paths,

Paths strewn

With beaten men

The heart

Has its own eyes,

It is now an embrace

Then the bastard or the beggar

Or the victim,

Who sits in welcome

With its barges draped with black

Or white flags.

62

Thoughts are like the trees

of the forest,

Life is like their

leaves,

Ground under the hooves

of beasts.

I wait

My head bowed in silence,

I had forgotten

The finger there

ON THE WALL.

63

Dreams

Those are the places

Of our comings and goings,

The far places.

Old Friends

Are like old hearts,

They are like the ripened fruits

To the tree.

I do not like the man

I see,

Standing in my shoes,

He reminds me of

A beggar at my brother's

Door.

64

A field would not know

its flowers,

Until Spring comes to know

That all of winter is good and done.

Young minds are like

Nestlings,

Good Nature

Dies,

Should Nurture flee.

Do not think

That I disavow things

But of what use is Faith

Without Service,

And Purpose

Without meaning.

65

It is death

That must strike,

To speed the soul

On its way,

That,

Resolves all conflict

I wanted to cry out,

To laugh with relief.

That,

All this had only

Been for fun.

66

When dreams fail

The faceless no longer live,

And Peace,

Is buried under the debris of

Fallen roofs.

A seed once scattered

Is like the child

At the crossroad.

Someone took my hand

And bent it over a rake,

Less I be too blind

To the worth of fields,

And be lost to work forever.

67

A mind

is forever

Like the rough boards

of childhood.

Lilies are

like full grown men

They spend their days

in the fields

Sadness strengthens

the heart.

And suffering?

It heartens the soul.

68

It is sad

If to be accepted,

We have to be

Like everyone else.

The last pebbles eased themselves

Painlessly,

From under my heart

Half born from a block of stone

I saw the man I was

yesterday,

Standing alone in the garden

of visions.

Perhaps he will open himself

to me today.

69

I met myself

walking in the opposite direction

It was a meeting between

nothing and nothingness.

Be not persuaders

of good.

Be performers

of good.

The fool has his

place,

But it is not upon a

throne

70

The weakling says:

"I am a gardener."

He should rather say:

"I am the soil in the garden."

Criticisms are like

weeds,

To the wayfarer,

They lie in wait

ready to kill

If dreamers live

in the hope of things

to be done

Practical men live in the light

of things done.

71

We met so briefly

And then only to be parted

When our minds moved away

From it all.

THE END