Passion for a Purpose

Passion for a purpose is a unique gift,
That can bring its bearers an unnamed lift,
The act itself- is to which you bow,
Its also to be in a state of flow.

Each of us have unique talents and skills.
Not all exist to pay the bills.
Trance worthy love for the act in itself is a reward,
As we have heard of many painter and bard.

How does one identify such a calling or cause?
That can make everything else go on a pause.
Is it inherited or inculcated?
How is it promoted and percolated?

The activity may not be rational to many,
It may not fetch you a precious penny,
But, absorption in the cause is unique from any.
Not all actions have to be clever or canny,

Lucky are those that can find such an emotion,
Dedicate their hours  and years with deep devotion,
Seeking and finding such a purpose is grace,
Indulging in perfecting it, is life’s purpose and pace.


Inspiration can appear anywhere-
Some have found in stories of tortoise and hare.
Others in mirrors, as they stare.
Usually in situations that one doesn’t fear, but dare.

Many seek in nature and its myriad layer.
Millions in regular penance and prayer.
Some visit seas, high mountains, temples, while others find in their lair.
Depends on what one fancies and on one's flair.

I’ve found mine in least expected times and places.
Sometimes during walks at steady or slow paces.
Usually when my mind is calm, free from everyday races.
Also in happy, sad, thinking, loving and longing faces.

Something else that works is to keenly feel, hear and see.
Without judgement—situations, as they happen to be.
Plethora of experience and emotion that incite glum and glee.
I am amazed at the opposites that surround me.

Life’s abundant contrasts-warm fuzzies and cold prickles,
Sweet and sour, praline and pickles.
Some days abundant, and others a trickle.
Life and its ways are ever changing and fickle.

Highly inspirational are nature’s bountiful creations,
Unwavering dreams and dedication,
Limitless and boundless imagination,
Leading to myriad innovations.

Zest or Rest

A new day, a new page,
Blank, unwritten, welcoming.
It seems to beckon,
“I have other things waiting,” I reckon.
Another small voice nudges, "stop making excuses."

The day is young, the sun is yet to sky light.
But my mind is not fully awake and bright.
I know it’s s easier to let my reverie stay.
Tougher is to breakaway.

Temptations are not far away
How do I turn my thoughts from a nay to a yay.
Our minds are fickle,
Can be distracted by a trickle.

Many diversions abound,
Phones, TVs, devices are all around.
Reasons to escape are easily found,
With so much we ourselves surround.

I tell myself-tomorrow will be better.
I will find a friend in letter.
At present I am unfocused- a scatter,
Don’t want to do things that matter.

Experience says-tomorrow is a mirage,
Feelings of ease often win and take charge.
These push aside facts-small and large.
But postponement comes with a heavy surcharge.

Reluctantly, I begin.
Slowly, the blank page and me wake up.

In my resolution, I find inspiration.
And an important realization-
So many foes of determination,
And friends of procrastination.
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