Discovering Faith

It was a bitter cold night,
His life was falling apart,
An angel whispered in his ear,
He finally found his God,
He found Her,
He discovered faith;

The road was precarious before,
Walking without belief,
A daunting task,
Then music echoed in his head,
He lived his dream,
he discovered faith;

His heart battered,
Without the beats,
His countenance diminished,
A fairy danced in his mind,
On his heart's erratic beats,
He discovered faith;

An uneventful odyssey,
Talks were simple blathering,
Meaningless syllables,
A nightingale sang for him,
His words found meaning,
He discovered faith;

Assorted nightmares tormenting dreams,
Innumerable pyres,
Burning without relief,
harbinger of the end,
Then divine light enlightened his sleep,
He discovered faith;

The world is born anew,
Ideologies reinvented,
Every moment magical,
Every reward in mirth,
Paradise on earth,
He discovered faith.

Reviews

[Ghost of Jupiter]

Alas sleep evades me and i return to find some peace in your beautiful perspective on life...this poem strikes me to the core...to discover faith like this...ideal. Faith in love brings about faith in all things again. I can see the images of spring renewing, color reappearing... the vignettes of grey dispersing into the the background. A wonderful thought... something to strive for, something to hope to have faith in again. Lovely work, as always, Eeshan.

[W. C. Forrest]

Thank you K for adorning my space with your copious words. You not only read my modest conception but felt it and I am grateful for that. Your review paints a beautiful picture and gives it entirety. You have traced the very heart of the oeuvre. Very soon fellow WC writers will start reviewing your reviews.

[David Moreland]

So young and so intense. Your voice is developing. You are opening up - probably the most difficult part of becoming a writer. It's worse than being caught with your pants down; it's like being forced to walk around naked with no pants on. Your voice will come to you when you strip off your clothes, admire yourself and begin to talk about what you see. Right now, you're doing the striptease. All great poets did it. They must. It's like peeling the proverbial onion. The more layers you get through, the stronger the scent, powerful its spice. The poets worth recognizing, reading, enjoying are not the ones who began the dance, but the ones who go through with it. Strip down, Eeshan. This piece convinces me you have what it takes to be a great writer, maybe minus the life experience - but that comes ... with living life, observing it. Comes with time. Can't rush the brush on that one, life equals experience. But you could hasten it along by stripping down, a.k.a. living, living life to the fullest. We all exercise faith, in something, someone. If you are about to sit on a stool, you exercise faith that the stool would not fall, it'll hold you up. Faith in what, is what matters. "His words found meaning, / He discovered faith;" WORDS. It's got to be that for a great poet. Words. The sound of words. Their feel, Sexuality. Sensuality. Emotional ability. The power. Resistance. Endurance. To do what nothing else can do - even fling the world into existence. And yes, give meaning. O, Eeshan, I wish I could have mentored you. You would be my greatest pupil. However, you have what it takes on the inside - just get naked and enjoy what you see; make sure to write it all down.

[W. C. Forrest]

Sir, you review is bountiful and generous. Life is one huge learning experience and ironically this too is taught by life itself; I have much to learn. Your counsel is enlightening. I have love for words and devour them with passion. The goal I seek is to someday give meaning and life to my conceptions. I am grateful to you for acknowledging me as someone worthy of being appraised.