I Will Be There

At Dusk

In the evening, when the sun has disappeared from the horizon of the city, and the light beyond the window is like a floating wisp of air about to leave, the birds make a little fuss settling down for the night, and my mind feels sad for the day coming to an end.

For ends remind me of cold mornings in January and cold evenings of February, when the world had become a blur of mute screaming noise and frozen movements. It had rained on both the occasions, a dreary deathful rain, seeking to wipe out all joy from life, all smiles from my sinless lips.

A strange moment during dusk happens each day, a moment between light and darkness, a moment between the known and unknown... a little window to a world where shadows have life, a realm of a possible meeting of the living and the dead. That moment, if caught, can tear away our false sense of well-being, certainty and intelligence... and make us breathe the air of a strange nether world, whose smell can make us remember old forgotten memories of centuries ago.

What is true, what is a shadow? What is life, what is death... where do we live, how do we exist. How many dimensions are there to a point of my life? Might we be living in one frequency, in a shared space and time, with other beings of another world?

Can the shadows see me, hear me, feel me....................... do they know me?

.

The eternity of loss

I am drunk with my memories
of the stars in the sky
that i saw with you
up in the hills one night…

The flowing hair
in the blowing wind
as i curled on to you
in the winding greens.

It is as if time doesn't exist
and everything is eternal
i just have to close my eyes
and everything dead comes alive
to devastate me forever…

The failed species

As if these living days are a fictional account in someone's schizophrenic head, and there is no respite from the constant story-telling, and how the players suffer… the sheer idiocy and myopia of a billion of such heads…

The travails of this world are due to stupidity and ignorance. Might be, stupidity due to ignorance. They say, every single person is fighting their own battle of life. But in reality, most of us are only fighting our own obsession over ourselves - our conditioned ideas, opinions, needs and dreams, our weaknesses, fears and insecurities.

How we ache to be free, and how we constantly imprison ourselves in chains of our own creation...

Liberation is so near, and yet so far. How have we managed to come this far, chained as we are..? Or, have these chains become part of our species that burden us with its rusted heavy metal...

Well.

I think about Life a lot. You can consider me having been hit by a massive lightning bolt of undesired awareness, making me walk along a quest for clues and insights that would give me some understanding of this massive blip of a cosmic event.

Most probably, it is nothing.




`

Who is not me...

Sometimes i do not recognise myself

As if it is a new world

And i am in possession

By some person

who is not me...

Sometimes, i remember things

which seem so distant and vague

As if, those memories are not mine

They belong to someone else

Who I do not know

Of a song...

Once, i heard a beautiful little song being played on the piano, and it appeared to me as if the sound was sadness itself -  the sorrowful acceptance of all the hurts and aches that life presents to any soul with some awareness... The slow melody of the piano that echoed that acceptance in such a simple way, made the soul walk with it into the dense forest of remembrance of this lifetime... and beyond...

Nothing takes away the vacuum of a lost touch, a voice, a face... a beautiful pair of brown eyes... 

All that remains is that which has always existed, and some fresh new salty dews in the eyes, in the darkness of a quiet inner world, closed to everyone but the absent one...

Is the sea full of tears, or are our tears full of the sea... Where do our memories go once we disappear into the darkness of death. Does it go sleep in the depths of the oceans, to rest itself and settle down, and become the force of gravity that pulls everything inside so powerfully...

The keys of the piano keep playing the same slow sombre song, that keeps reminding me of those stories that once wove into my being...