I am in a fix, chasing the perfection,
To fix myself through meditation.
Does it help me? Maybe!
Does it cure my disease? Maybe!
Yet I'm not seconded with the idea,
Of alluring charm of sitting at one place,
Waging a war against my own thoughtless embrace.
Meditation a quick fix,
For the calm and composed self,
But for the distorted one, it can't help.
And I'm that one, helpless entity,
Seeking peace and harmony in the cyclonic periphery.
I seek a purpose as my meditative path,
Where mind-body and soul rhyme—
Uniting with an oath.
A journey of progress towards consciousness,
In the joy of living a meaningful life with soulfulness.
Kanchan Butola