Daily Mantras and Such

Verses of Absence 

That day you missed school, 

we learned there is no "big picture," 

no grand scheme of things— 

only moments. 

And that moment,

when we laughed until we cried? 

It was a form of prayer, 

akin to a sacred rite. 

The day you missed school, 

we produced math sheets, 

methods evoking,

how your grandmother tenderly kneaded porota dough— 

coaxing, patting, and sculpting

the formless mass into flawless rectangles. 

Two gold bangles created a melody against the porcelain bow. 

We then studied how even perfection has its cracks, 

and cracks have their beauty, 

like when the rectangles sizzle in ghee—

 parching, like craters, 

tossing and turning, 

in five inches of pure golden goodness, 

oozing love stories. 

In each corner, an undeniable right angle, both bold and sharp—

a fierce, possessive, commitment. 

The day you missed school, 

just before the afternoon snuggles, 

we made equations look easy— 

the ones that proved 

Effort_blend = 0, 

the sum of all efforts to blend is null. 

We unraveled complex formulas with ease— 

those that illustrated 

solitude and loneliness 

are not inherently intertwined, 

defying the Law of Direct Proportion. 

The day you missed school, 

there was a Q&A session,

a discussion unfurled, 

a back-and-forth on life's affirmations, 

and we reached a consensus: 

we chose "all of the above" for the question: 

it's PERFECTLY FINE to: 

(a) let go 

(b) bow out 

(c) renounce what no longer serves 

(d) walk away from the extraneous 

Throughout the day, 

there was also a bit of linguistics, 

a discussion highlighting 

that “I am,” 

“just be,” 

and “enough,” 

are complete sentences. 

That day you missed school, poetry was penned in our memories. ❤️