Poetry is forever forlorn, for it being the whisper of the soul intoned in silence, is rarely received in its real depth. True poetry does not make things happen, at least in this prosaic age. It has ever been so. Even Vyasa wailed that no one was truly listening to him. Nevertheless, poetry continues to speak in her serene voice for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. She continues to speak about the beauty and the richness of nature, about the sublimity of life. Her voice comes from heart and goes to heart and lingers there forever, despite the dirt and dust all around. We live in an ever expanding world at the macro level and in an ever narrowing world within, at the quantum level. Man becomes smaller and smaller, a stranger to himself amid harrowing times. He is growing increasingly incapable of listening to the symphony of life, as he is almost a crushed soul helmed in by floods of blood, violence, intolerance, bitterness, degradation, death, decay and hatred. Love conquers love, hatred cannot conquer even hatred. But he forgets. These are the thoughts that went through my mind as I went through these poems. The poems are a spiritual surveillance as it were, focusing on the modern day human condition. One may hear scriptural overtones running through all of them. It cannot be otherwise, for truth does not change with time and clime. What is commendable about the poet is his ability to maintain a dispassionate tone, a balanced position quite uncommon in an aspiring poet. I wish all his readers an enriching experience.