High alone at night

Getting high alone is always a different experience. Undiluted by the presence of others, my own self sorrounds me. I am humbled, amazed, flattered and flabbergasted by my own brilliance. I'm also a little annoyed. And cowed. And afraid.

The wind whispers
Silent secrets
Into my ears.
Their hushed cadence
I hear.
I am alive.
Now
In the moment...
It is agony
It is ecstasy
It is what IS
And what will be
It is life
And so
It begins.

Sleep - A Cycle

Read this differently. What you see is how you see it. Try...

Sleep
For the innocent shall
Dream
For they who do not
Live
For they who do
Forget
For those who do not
Die
For those who do not
Play
For they who shall
Dream
For those who do shall
Sleep

A random drunken Fancy

And I drift along like the moon
Among the clouds wandering
Less beautiful somehow
Yet, nonetheless, a beautiful thing
Is thought condensed of all malady
A beautiful thing, a prize pursued...
For it's not all about silver rings
And tales long forgotten.
It's a tale of beautiful things
Of princesses oft gotten...
Of cabbages and kings
And of promises broken.
It's a tale of thought and life
And life and thought unknown
It's a life of thought unbroken
And of roads walked among the shadows
All alone....

Love

"They say it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved..."

If you can, read it with the music playing. I feel that it will add to the overall experience.

I read this saying a long time ago when I was barely 10 years old. I didn't agree then. Yet the words have stayed with me since. A year and a half ago, newly heartbroken; truly heartbroken for the first time in my life; I disagreed vehemently. 'It is better to never have loved, if you're to lose it all anyway!' thought my angry 19 year old self. What is the point of loving and losing anyway? I always used to argue this with myself. How can anyone miss what they never had? What is love anyway?

Why is love one of the greatest enigmas? Everyone knows what it is like to be in love yet no one knows what it is. It is there in every society, culture or civilization. Much has been said about it from Ancient Greece to modern day Australian aborigines, from the writers of philosophy to purveyors of pornography. Yet, curiously they all agree. Love. they say. is all powerful. Love is something that cannot be understood. Love is without boundary. Love happens. Love cannot be explained by the laws of logic. Yet no one knows what love is.

Yesterday, I watched a movie called Mr. Nobody. It was about the infinite webs of choices that lead one to their ends in life. It was also about love. The protagonist, Nemo, endures endless torment: years and years of living alone, boredom, physical pain, millions of lives lead and possibilities explored. All for love. To be with his love. I realized that I have never felt that way about anyone. In my entire life, I have never loved someone the way Nemo did. Selflessly, doubtlessly, eternally. What a beautiful thing is love! To never feel it, yet see its purifying effects on others. To watch them endure in the hope of a one in a million chance, watch them fight for it. Kill for it, die for it. Is painful. It's not a sensible torture. You feel no pain. Even pain is a presence. It's torture because you feel absence. Something missing. Yet you do not know what is missing. Because you have never felt it. And thus, you cannot stop wanting it. You can banish, ignore or endure pain. But  you cannot fight what you cannot see, cannot not-be what you've never been. Most of us go on living our lives without noticing it, but even the dullest among us knows, feels that gnawing void. Life is too short. And life is too long. Whatever we chose to make of it. This music reminds me of it. Like someone I knew long ago but don't remember now.

I hope I feel it before it's time to go. I hope everyone does.

Rain Clouds

When we see something, especially after a certain age and with certain things, do we see it or do we see what our mind sees? In the rain, especially in pre-rainy weather, my mind invariably wanders to times in my childhood when such weather was followed by rushing outside to play as fast as humanly possible. I think I have lost that animal pleasure. Swapped it rather, for the moral-mental satisfaction of an intellectual one. Loss? Who's to say? Anyway - 

The clouds sauntered across the sparkling sky
The wind sang to match
Cool children of raindrops float in spray
And join my sweat in harmony
It is a beautiful cloudy day
Noon darkened to early dawn
A beautiful smell of fresh-wet-earth
Springs from the air like song


The day is suddenly full of possibility...

For You Whoever You Will Be

I had a really unique experience yesterday. Or yesternight to be precise. I was in a bar and understandably sozzled. I met a girl there. She excited me beyond anyone I have ever been excited by. For those 3 hours I was there, everything else but her ceased. I wrote this for her. This is the unedited version. I've never done something like this before. Nor will I do it again. Perhaps.







Inexpressible as it is I'm drawn to you

I see myself in fields of green because that's what this reality represents

I don't know why I feel the way I do

I don't understand what makes me so

Makes me think of places I want to go

With you

With places I want to explore

Within myself

I want to know

Why?

Space

I don't know where I'm going. Or why I'm going. I do know how though. Logic devoid of reason is Chaos. All the more so because it wears a cloak of Order.


Space
Erasing the lines across your face
Across the trail left by the things left unsaid
What you cannot erase shall cease anyway
And build up and destroy its own
Space

Space
Its a testament to unreality
Because only that exists what we see
Everything that exists is so because we
Dream it up in our own pseudo-rationality
Not realizing that we're rationalizing
Until infinity
Swallows and is swallowed by
Space

Space
Like a snake
Eating its own tail
Going round in a circle
And in its own destruction it sustains
Itself mindlessly
There is no time if there is no
Space

Space
Is a shadow
Of what doesn't exist
In not-being it is-not
And thus is the anti
And in the anti it is
As a mirror of what is
And what will be
Is in the anti not-is
And never-be
Like infinite spirals in
Space

Fade to Perfection

Fade
Erase the mistakes you made
When it's all gone you remember
You have nothing to trade
For you have nothing else
To swap but the emptiness
That fills you

Do you want to be hollow?
It's the only way
To be perfect because all is erased
And in the fires of regret
The fanning winds of change
Have scoured and abraded away
Everything imperfectly you
Once were remains only
In the way you
Fade

Die

Would you like it when a thousand knives
Invade your dull, colourless, tasteless lives?
What would you know of pleasures
Hidden in passion or longing?
You who live in search of meaning
Without knowing what you seek
You make a pantomime
Out of a tragedy
And end up living out
A role in the eternal comedy.
Fools die.

Why do we live?

We are the air
We are the sound
Inside our minds
We live a thousand lives
And die a million times
Chasing our dreams
We forget it is the dream
And not the chase
That we are seeking

Inside our minds
We seek the light
Of a smile
From ourselves
Yet we run away
And die often
Before we face
What we fear the most
In ourselves
Is ourself
Self
But we are the sound
And the air
Self

Boredom

I feel bogged down
Among the swamps
Of controlled orderly thought
Is it age that drives me?
Or conformity that guides me?
Or the chaos of boredom
Disordered and bereft of reason
To be bored is to have ONE line
Of thought defined
To be bored is to know nothing
But an eternal gnawing
Inside the mind
To be bored is to see
With jaundice-ridden eyes
The bitter pain of living
With a limited body
Housing a limitless mind
To be bored is to die
A thousand deaths
To live and yet not
To see and yet not
To question the relevance
Of each breath taken
To lie asleep and hope
Never to awaken
To be bored is death

Sea of the Living

Bumping and tumbling
To the rhythm on deck
As we swing and sway
To the rhythm of the Sea
Salty are my eyes
Swept by the wind
That blows towards virgin lands
And from stale shores left behind
A shooting star races the rain down
As I make a wish to see ahead
We all go forward and look behind
And hear tales carried
By the sweet breeze laden
With the moisture of the Sea
The winds are blowing
And the waves are flowing
As the Sea carries me on
Away from the lands
Where I began and now
 To them we are gone
And we have moved on
To other lands and distant shores
Only the wind runs to and fro
As it sees stories embedded
In the foaming waves carried on
Yet to those left behind
And to those who await alike
We are gone
And we have moved on
Or they are gone....

Out of sight is out of mind...

Atheists Lament

It would be so easy
To just believe
In tales of immortals
Of men who are giants
And of beauties beyond skin
I would give my life to see
Something beyond the grip
Of cold man-made reason
And find that life is more
Than mere flesh and bones
And to discover the spirit within

Memories

This is how I've always perceived memories.

A room to curl up in away from the noise
Streets you walk in times of emptiness
When all seems bleak, empty or merely devoid
Of any colour cadence or illumination
I walk streets seen years before
I jump for joy on tiles I stepped as a child
I walk in the mountains and sit by the sea-shore
Inside my mind it is vivid
It is bright
Full of light
And with it darkness made
A  tapestry of checquered shades
It is recovery
Sometimes it is the malady
Yet even memories of rain
Ease the sunshine into ones being.

I know I know, it's bad, but at least it's something. After this horrible dry spell, it's all I've got... cheers

Ramblings

Endless ladders
Knots and threads
And more is the confusion
It is chaotic
It feels right
A tangle of THINGS
Of whats and what-nots
And wheres and whens and hows
The seeker ascends
The endless ladder
Leading to the ultimate destination
The place where it began
Before there was an aim
There was
IT.
And after the end has ended
It shall be
As it was
As it should have been
And was not yet is
Before the beginning
Is there chaos?
Or what is order then?

My dearest wish

I've always wanted to go away
Walk alone for years and days
And nothing between the horizon and me
But the foaming-frothing deep-blue sea...

The Joke of Pretences

Whew, writers block is a horrible thing. Not that I have legions of fans beating down my door to read anything, it's just a personal thing. Anyway, I have a muse. She broke my block by giving me an interesting perspective on 'facades' that people put up for others. I started thinking on how everyone has a facade and how ultimately it's more of a filter.

We all live behind veils

Of our own creation

Laughing at the tales

We seemingly display

Yet the joke lies ever upon us

For through our masks

Does come coloured and dimmed

Even brightest light of day

These Memories of Joy

I watched the Indian team as they lifted the world cup on their shoulders. I also watched my friends and college-mates as we ran riot on campus. I remember thinking: "We are now part of history, the generation that saw the world cup come back to us" and thanking fate that it happened while we were still in college. We have one more month to go before each of us parts, perhaps forever, and follows each his own path. We are drinking in every moment of every day of this magical last year. This year, this time, will never come back save in memory...


They laughed in the sunlight
Jumping with joy golden as
The streaking sunbeams
That flashed across their
Happy faces
They were young and strong
With laughter that only the
Bubbling of youthful joy can bring
Each drank in the moment
To his own measure and need
Seeing all the same but remembering
Apart what today feels like
They leap and bound among peals
Of laughter that colour their faces gold
They live now as much as they can
For, years later when aged
And weary of walking they run only
In their minds to those days so long ago
When they were young and free
Light of loads and carrying bundles
Of joy unbounded and uncontained
They shall remember and be glad
In a small corner of their hearts
They shall live those golden moments
Again and again and never tire
In their minds as once they did not in body
Of those memories of joy

They walk on

For they know not where the road bends
Nor where ultimately the horizon lies
Where men go when they leave this world
Nor to the unknown regions where time flies

Ignorance is bliss verily and thus happily they walk
Laughing with joyous face and singing lips
They walk down the path knowing not
Where goes the Sun once beyond the horizon He dips...

The Mingling of the lights

It comes twice everyday
Once each at dusk and dawn
Rarely do we notice, litte we say
Unaware we move on
It is the time of death, an end
The death of day or of night
A death on which a birth depends
The mingling of the lights

The mingling of the lights
Neither the dying sun suffices
Nor the lamps glimmering bright

The mingling of the lights
When the world is grey and dark
And shadows flicker in aimless flight

The mingling of the lights
For dusk and dawn are moving on
And thus will change alight

On a world stuck in stagnation
The daily change reminds us
Of it's ignored presence
And yet it's eternal continuation
The wheel of time goes on.