Beautifully crafted, the experiencec of life,
such tough decisions, powerful emotions.
The split second of recollection,
the familiar pulse of desires.
Intonation, it intonates a earthly sound,
the world shivers as the room shakes.
Till a point where every cell in the body
sways to the beat of an ancient chant.
I forget the words,
though it matters not.
It is the rituals the give force
and form to the aged believe.
That Trust will be enliven again,
that hope in the future will grow.
The conception of wants was never meant to be
filled with sorrow and contemplation.
But delayed gratification as it is,
promises bursts of joyous release.
Think, feel, move, focus-
the inner beast of passion shell rise.
From ashes of civilisation,
like the fiery bird, adjacent wings.
Flight, powered with our inner rituals
of sound and beats and gestures,
shell restore the sacred balance.
Our wishes granted,
the passion set-afire.

-chin.