Featured Poetry Gaurav Mathur I Sit Silent in My Chair

I Sit Silent in My Chair

I sit silent in my chair

Poised with pen and paper

All eyes and ears

Waiting to catch a glimmer

Or the faintest whisper

Of the Eternal

Nothing

And all around me

Chirping birds, flowing water

Rustling leaves, drizzling rain

Distract and divert

Dissuade and derail me

And I achieve, or so it seems

Nothing

Life, the universe

Everything

A grand conspiracy

Overrules my negation

Overwhelms my senses

I am drowned

In a deluge of Being

My peace and quiet

My inner solitude

My silent core

All are hushed by the roaring tumult

Of Life, the universe

Everything

Even the solitary flame within

Quenched by the fiery glow

Of a thousand splendid suns

Blazing forth forever

Life, the universe

Everything

Have consumed me completely

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide

There is no outer world

There is no me inside

Only sitting and flowing

Silence and chirping

Paper and leaves

Drizzling and blazing

Nothing and everything

Life, the universe and I are One.

Gaurav Mathur

Gaurav Mathur, MD, is a poet, philosopher and cardiologist who loves to explore the core of every issue, the heart of the matter. He lives in Florida with his wife who is a psychiatrist and two lovely children.

Ouevre

Deliverance Through Surrender

Poetry by Gaurav Mathur

Deliverance through surrender Order re-restored My true self is now in form Whole, wholesome, pure Unchanged, or rather back to the original form Self before me, before time Unchained, or...

Thought and its Futility

Poetry by Gaurav Mathur

Thought and its futility Are seen Desire and its pointlessness Are seen Fear and its subsidence Are seen The unwavering flame of attention Engulfs all that is Mind is still,...

Do Not Ask

Poetry by Gaurav Mathur

Victim or victor I am not Friend or lover I am not Poet or philosopher I am not Seeker or seer I am not Thought or thinker I am not...

View all Works by this Author

Anthology

Declension in April

Poetry by Frank Golden

Lacking an ordained task, I sit in the blue chair facing south, rain on the circular field past Ballyhaine, rifts of blue opened by the wind, a taper of baling...

One into the Other

Poetry by Arwa Qutbuddin

The cup of tea I make for you Has something in it of the rustling leaves I saw yesterday while lying under the trees Their gentle movement stirs itself through...

On The Edge

Poetry by Arwa Qutbuddin

Holy intoxication makes my spirit drunk I sip from the lake that holds a sacred moonbeam inside its black waters This beauty leaves me in rapture of the starless night...