Our Journey

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On a road commonly  travelled,
I walk with a few fellows, How long are we together or how soon shall we separate, are not questions that bother me.
But, that you are,
and that the path is
and that we are walking while we can,
Is all I care for.

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Which journey..

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I wonder if I would like to live the journey of the rain. There is a freedom in its fall, direction, unity and ends up moistening every form with its healing touch.

Or, would I like the journey of a road that bears the heat of the sun, the beat of the rain, the screeches and the weight of its passers by, but shares a glossy affection saved from a long time only to be spent away in a moment.

Or, would I like the journey of the street light that finds no onlooker through the day and whose existence remains overpowered, yet it finds no rest when it is the pitch black night just so that it can bring to life, everything that it surrounds.

Or, do I continue to be in my own journey that lets me be in awe of every other journey which I come across.

And the question drops…

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An empty seat awaits your presence and when you occupy it, I will be rowing you silently through an ancient route. You sit there on the other end of the boat and look around. As you will find me absorbed in rowing you choose not to ask me that one question and you keep it for later. Then when you gaze the grasslands and the infinite sky a shimmering golden breeze kisses your face and you feel strange. For you know this breeze and this recollection will make you feel like you know every pixel of what you see and you know every grain of your feeling.  Like you know everything about everything here for ages. Like something is speaking to you and waiting for you to break your silence. Yet, your silence is your only language, your only means to express. You look at me and I raise my head. In the moment, something in us knows that a word will be too much. Your question drops. And, a wordless journey on an ancient route goes on..

Of this world…

A face lay there in eternal sleep,
No smile.
No frown.
I wonder,
“After all, smiles and frowns are of this world”.

“Mine”

I own nothing
The ideas I present
The feelings I feel
The thoughts I think
And, the words I used
Or continue to use to express myself.
Everything, ever that has been
Has been through:
Absorption, assimilation, memorization
Recollection, repetition and more memorization.

Inseparables..

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What is the ground to the grass, water to thirst, mother to its baby, tree to the birds, sky to the stars and the sun to the moon?

“Sleep”

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Walking gently into the night.. What’s left is these last drops of light..Soon the final shades of colors will become one.. Time is about to lose its significance and space is about to lose limits.. Nothing about my world will be carried forward.. My sorrows and my happinesses can accompany me till this gate alone, as “sleep” needs neither.. All that there exists now is an unending continuum, till my alarm goes on..

Choosing courage today…

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If you see this picture, you could choose to see your fear or choose to see your courage or may be whatever you connect to when you see it.

I am choosing courage today. I am willing to silence/ignore the noise of fear today, of anyone or of anything.

I am choosing to listen to the faint voice of courage to do what I must do and amplify it within and so much that it reaches you too.

I am taking that jump to reach where I must reach.  And you, go for it, what ever that may be!

Experience – Here it goes, there it comes..

The mental demand for permanence in an experience is a source of discomfort.

No experience, be it that of sight, sound, taste, smell, touch, feel or relation(ship) is sustained permanently.

“Jump.. Don’t just ponder from the bridge..”

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A bridge can go no far. And, a bridge will never give me the experience of what the sea or the sky feel like. All this wonderment about the surrounded beauty, and flowery lines of poetry is just plain talk and empty words devoid of a taste of the sky or the sea.

Bedazzlement…

                                               Picture Courtesy: Sarolta Ban

Innocent wonderment’s toy…

Glorious distraction…

Love sighting love…

Immobile..

                                                  Photo Courtesy: Michael Sulka

Haunted street,

Paved for the anonymous..

Interplaying light/dark..

Misty taste…

Your intangible presence..

I don’t have you anymore,
But, what does that even mean?
I have lost your physical presence,
In that, your ‘form’ no more exists,
As it once did.
But, were you form alone?
Or, was there more of you?
May be that which they call ‘spirit’?

The Pendulum..

From this extreme
To that
The pendulum swings.

It may seem that
The pendulum stops only at extemes,
But, it’s a fallacy.
The stops are many.
The time at each stop
Outside the extremes
Is only shorter and imperceptible.

Life and Death – lying side by side.

I see two bodies
Lying side by side,
Identical in form and appearance.

What is surprising is
That they look just like me.

So, now we are three of us here!

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust”

In this funeral pyre,
Through the space between the logs
That I have been placed within,
I see the faces
Of people known to me.
Their faces made visible
In this dark new moon night,
By the fire’s light.
The fire that is glorious,
Whose flames have now reached
Quite a height.
My body is burning intensely,
Like would a fuel.

A soliloquy in a midsummer night’s dream!

“Lies have become your character,
Taking over from truth,
Which was your nature.

Truth is there,
Hidden by your lies,
Behind your lies:
Lies that you have cultivated,
Some that you know,
Subtly, playing right in front of your eyes.
Some still unknown,
For lies aren’t easy to pick,
Especially, when you have drowned in them,
And so you miss.

Pondering over my footprints..

Over the sand-dunes
That I walk upon,
My footprints are getting lost
Or, erased by the winds of time.

But, what is getting created,
Through me,
Isn’t just a footmark alone,
But, a phenomenon,
That is changing this macrocosm,
At every footstep,
Which not even time can erase.

RsOeCaK ~ Their love story

Since time immemorial,
Rock sees Sea,
Silently, longingly,
Sea rocks Rock,
Violently, lovingly.

Countless embracements,
Each lasting just a tick,
Each separation
Painful as a prick.

Unusual Trepidation

He stood at a crossroad,
Where his reaction
At that moment
To the precarious situation,
Would decide the course
Of his life.

His instinct would
Make him do that
Which is predetermined,
But, something held
His usual response
This time.
Perhaps, an instant of satori,
A trice submerged in ponderation,
Had detained his action,
And brought an insight,
A realization.

If I don’t find my way

The structure of my mind,
Is so patterned,
That I repeat myself,
Habitually, tediously,
Boringly, tiredly.
My present justifies
That, so clearly.

Waiting for that someone?

Prelude: Facsimile – dVerse Poetics

She told us all about herself,
And, in the end
She asked for help.

Each one in shock,
Asked their own self,
“Did she just speak about me,
Or, tell about herself?”
Because, all of what
She was going through,
Pain, agony, fear and despair,
Was, essentially, true,
For each one of them too.
And, each has had a long wait,
Like her, for that someone,
Who would come and satiate.

You

.

Before “it”,
You were in your world,
And were fine,
At least because, you were in it.
Till “it” ,
I was in mine and fine in it.

There has been,
No thought about you,
No contact,
Since our last meet,
And, we met only a few times,
Before that meet.

Mesmerizing two




Every time I look at you,
Mesmerizing-two,
I (eldest) am held,
By a ceaseless spell.

Like some times when,
The vast impenetrable sky,
Glittered and glowed,
Through limitless studded stars,
A waxing-waning moon,
Over a pitch-black canvas.