When:
Entwined and relentless,
Curled up and restless,
Bubbled up and joyous,
Mellowed down and luscious.
Zoned out!
The same
In mind’s frame.
In:
Stimulation,
Disconsolation,
Exhilaration,
Dejection.
Zoned out!
The same
In body’s shame.
Upon:
Listening,
Creating,
Caring,
Loving.
Zoned out!
The same
In soul’s flame.
~@$
I enjoy writing in my diary. I love my diary. But it’s difficult for me to carry it around always and, therefore, I felt I would use my phone as one for quite sometime now. But again as I am, prone to get too used-to an act which leads me to abandon it altogether, I am turning to you my dear blog to listen me rant and accept what I am to blabber. I’d be glad if you could be my diary.
I am not going to be direct in any of my addresses to you. Whatever I write will be written in a general manner and not in a particular way. I enjoy abstractness and I am willing to keeping my writings here that way. Thank you for listening so far. Here I begin making you listen to me more…
I have a dream, in fact many dreams. Sometimes I used to think most of my dreams have been forced upon me by my family or friends. They made me think in a particular way which in turn made me formulate dreams which were nothing but their dreams for me. Such dreams have no meaning and its fruitless to follow them. Follow a dream which comes from within you, which makes you go and challenge yourself to the extremes. One can’t follow others’ dreams. That wouldn’t have the motivation needed for its accomplishment.
This makes me want to say:
My dear Motivation,
You thing of beauty
And of joy immense.
Will you be there with me in times of toil
And of utmost dissent?
Will you follow me wherever I go?
Beacuse I promise you here
To never let you go.
Even if you feel
That I am being unfaithful to you
Sometimes I just might be,
Know nonetheless that I love you too dearly
To let you just rest.
Dance within me,
Make me twirl with sleepless nights
If you may,
But promise me
That in the end you’d never
Keep yourself from me
At bay.
Because I love you too deeply
Even if you may know it not
Today.
There’s a charm in the chaos these days
The lights stay on and the music doesn’t change
The gaze looks beyond the motion
Beyond the obviousness of affairs
The obvious ceases to interest
And unusual ceases to caress.
Sometimes the mind doesn’t know
Pressure cooker blows
And the bucket overflows
Open eyes look for the sight unseen
And when closed witness the serene.
That’s when dreams creep in…
Into the spaces…
Spaces left untouched
Yet somehow scathed.
But the visions brighten up the voids,
Mollify the morose,
Readies the soul,
Welcoming the new days to rise.
Sometimes all you need is to enjoy the silence; for silence is the first natural language that comes to us by default and all else is a desperate effort leading to a poor translation of this universal Divine Language. But all in all, maybe the verbal language is the quickest escape to understanding that Divinity than the other languages!!!
In a world full of mute people,
Maybe I’ll fit better.
With no-one to say a word,
For there’d be no language to share.
Showing happiness would be:
People to balter at the sound of their own laughter,
Holding hands and going round-and-round together.
There’d be no abuses and no qualms for words and their usage.
With no language in the picture, feelings would overflow:
Just as water out of a pitcher.
The languages of eye-contact and touch would be at work:
To bring a smile on faces all the more.
But with no words to spare, the world from one another’s perspective: Would all just be a hazy glare.
As the trapped feelings would also sometimes want to come out and cry: “Yayyy!!!”
Just as a little girl peeping stealthily outside from the door left ajar,
Wishes to join the kids in the playground shrieking with joy: “Hurray!!!”
The shot was so perfectly aimed at
That the arrow dug down deep;
With it engraved as if a work of craft
The heart learnt to beat;
For it was the pain that became the elixir of life
And the only pleasure to feel.
By the lofty hills
where the stream frothed;
Laid the rock still,
with the Bird perched upon:
‘Twas the brawling brook underneath,
transcending tranquility far and beyond.
Her journey from the Concrete Jungle,
terminating but at a peaceful juncture:
of scuffling ripples
and babbling bubbles.
With the sylvan glade to the fore,
the solitary shanty to the rear;
Plumaged from its chimney the smoke:
shading the yonder grey;
Far soothing than the poison plummeted
off the factories into the blackened freshet.
‘Twas the water that sputtered
and not the engines,
The wind that blew unhindered,
and not the hawkers.
Walking on the soft wet mud;
leaving prints of existence on the land.
Far more promising than the hard gravelled ground,
soaking up the tinge of Life.
Chirping cheerfully,
hopping happily,
was the Birdie that fluttered
around her land of sanctity.
There! Sitting by the side of the window:
Looking out to the world of emptiness,
Or to the one that of dreams?
One couldn’t discern a difference you know.
There! Working hard to meet the day’s ends:
Prescribed as wretchedness by a few,
Or as assiduousness by even the fewer of the few?
One couldn’t discern a difference you know.
There! Strolling by the park in the neighbourhood:
Where the old carries the young in their arms,
Or the young carries the spirits of the old?
One couldn’t discern a difference you know.
There! In the midst of a crowd of the humankind:
Sometimes you feel lost in the populace,
The other times you find your very essence just by being a part of that race.
It is all but in the mind afterall,
Whether they’re the lies or not;
One couldn’t discern a difference you know.
