November 30, 2009 § 16 Comments

It is surprisingly cool. Such days are few and far between, in this city. This city, which I call home. Where I have lived here forever, except for a few sojourns.

As the wind blows from the east, from the direction of the sea, you realize that nothing much has changed but a lot has happened. The same smells and the same shanty dirty streets. The parked cars, which eat into the road, have increased. Layers and layers of tar have been added. Old houses are gone and new flats have come in.

Yet the same old trees, sway in the distance, most have weathered the storms of  nature and man’s insanity. People have grown older, new friends have been found, old ones  have either been blown away by the winds or the relationships have just waned, but history just strolls on. It walks past the very streets, which I transverse, still. I can see it, silently taking stock, of the events- what happens today, leads to a tomorrow.

It speaks through people. We hear about the past, we gain hope and passion for the future. We hope to out do it. It fuels our aspirations, by setting the chimes. We change, we walk past those things and suddenly realize in vain, but it remains. It is a superfluous being. It transpires, it lives, it exists, in our very blood, that which can never be changed by mere concrete.

I have been hearing it for 18 years and some of its stories have been forgotten, some distinctly still clear,  it still accompanies me. It instigates, it is the thread of attachment, it is what makes the chemical being, live. It is what cognates. My heart pumps it, I can feel it. The mind never tires, the hope of a better tomorrow, the dreams of unseen heights and the thrills and spills.

The path has long been laid. But even that is preceded,  by the waves and the lands. We are fascinated, when we hear of our past, not only about our family, its achievements, contributions, but also at the history of our very Earth and universe- the true family, which we belong to.

We hold on to what we can. No amount of spirituality and science can cause a centrifugation in us. It is innate. It is what makes us, us. Memories remain of  from where we came, the nostalgia will be sustained. Beyond skin, flesh and bones, our blood is thicker.

I stand upon, the wind tickles, I smile and I walk on. Life is never the same, change is the only constant, that is why everything remains.

A metaphor called God

January 19, 2009 § 19 Comments

A blanket above,
A world below,
As dreams fill sleep,
Angles oblique and steep,
Fill grotesque hours with
Inert worth of days, betwixt.

The day scumbs to night,
The hours hang alive,by minutes,
Postulates to the sense of being alive.
Attachments call,to feel,
To be,to sense victory,of something
Which is an image of something greater.

A metaphor called God,
Revives a sense of an all
Engraved hour-into one,
Of an acclaimed need,in a few
Verses,which relight the sight,
To the touch of a greater proportion,
The value of life-the pinnacle of salvation.

To err is human,yet to err is not human.
A cell of nature,an atom of a final being,
Circular waves of creation and destruction,
Flow within,thus making a final preposition-
That balance is within and around,
Freedom senseible and yet bound.
The liberty to move,
The capricious constants,
Which grow and grew,
Thanks to winds of east and west,
Some ultimate zest,a locus at every point,
So cunningly mystic,
that to not dream is drastic.

In the being,a sense lives.
Of what?Of whom? Of where?
Is something which few dare,
To raise and even fewer to chase.
And to one whose moral is low,
How to put across,how to show,
That beyond everything there is a gap,
And that which dares not to show up,
Is the one which we need to find,
For a known foe is better than an unknown fiend.

God,a superlative common,
To all.Yet one which we deem to be stoned
Or ubiquitous yet made to be borne.
But nay,the circumstances,
The thee breaths free-as free
As any human born into the world,
A product of nature and essentially
Of something greater,a wall against to run,
To constantly compare and raise to,
From birth to death through.

The God is of a greatness,which within
We strive to evolve,to push the being,
As God is one,and all is one,termed
Or understood to be God.If not for
Man’s intellect how would a word,
Be thrown about,stud to every language,
Common to everyone alive? how a concept
Be so profound and left to interpret
And yet be starved with glorious neglect
Of a few? From where or when arose
This force or concept such,
That its value be so little yet so lush?

When can a mind,be so alive,
That is sees life? When can pain
Be so alive,that living is a sense?
What worth is this world,
When one dreams? And what of
God,does is it mean?
A mode through which we know?
Or a clear and stark iridescent show?
A spark of light?
Or the setting sigh of a twilight?

What integrity does everything propose
To,that we have a value to set aside
And compare and abide? The way of God?
If so,then a balance and not goodness to all
Can be seen,how can a universe be,
Set to a better tune,when the impact
Is seen as the one to reach and not the
Beauty and vivacity of each string and sound?
Is this a way to be bound? Ignorance
Seems to chaff life of a greater benevolence.
Yet something keeps alive.
Something tells you,you are right.

One in all,
All in one,
Justice, poetic,
Illusions mystic.
visions and thoughts
All within and around a circle,
Yet what tangent should we find,
To take a new path and understand
The nature of light?
If life be a force,
If earth be or not be more than a rock,
What is the master plot?

God,A feeling,a sense,
To be seen within,that which
Prompts and pulls and moves,
The being from within,
That which strives to give
Sense to all.If life was just
A being with thought and sense
And the ability to feel,
God is that which makes
All of it real and a sense of superior,
Which motivates the being to move,
And then search its value.

If God is the truth,then it means
To search it,means an means to an end.
If God be life,then it means a calm
To overcome phases of death.
If God means everything,
Then it is a negation of nothing.
And so God be everything,
That which is everything we know
Moves,which prompts us to move,
So that it too,can grow through
And intend its virtue to a few more,
Of cosmic worlds unknown and unseen.

God is a metaphor,
The name,the forms given to the blur,
Which we all see.
The force which makes us think,
The force that makes us seek.
Instinct and knowledge,
Worlds and Wisdom,
Virtue and venerated.

Without a gap,
Without a constant arising
From all,what curve can be right?
Might and brutish strength,
Achievements through veiled plagues,
Yet justice served is infinite
And so it is poetic.
God at a poet’s heart,
Seems to sketch,something,
Consistent and thoughtful
Yet a play with misery and beauty,
Every tone to its worth.

But what can draw,all this?
Unless one explodes at a point
In time,that which forces a rime,
To be made alive and burst
alive ,forces forced to move,
Gravity of it all,new.
Unseen but felt,
We can value it,relative
To our life and what we sell.

Thus all in all God,
Is that which we be
That which causes and
Is the virtue of causation,
Whose effects infuse a
Sense and make us seek
The beginning as the end,
And again the end,
All the while seeking a tangent
To move to a different sense,
Where in elevation is gained by
Meeting another circle and another
Way out,in and out of life and
Virtual into a mental idea and stride
All the while in a world of real illusions.

The God is a metaphor,
Of superior sight,
Of the innate we abide.
Truth is not the end
But means to an end.

mortality is lost when
sense of reality is found.
Man’s work is to break inability
To achieve it or not destiny.

The light shines the brightest

unearthed impressions

March 31, 2008 § 8 Comments

unearthed impressions-
once lived in me.
unearthed impressions-
live in me.
unearthed impressions-
will live in me.
in all what we bury,
will grow- seen or unseen,
but always felt.
the fruit’s taste will
bear the juice
to help rejuvenate
us and be the solace
we always needed.
at every turn we seek
a sign,
like a lost word,
it appears
and lights
our emotions with
the past,present and
the future.
energy is constant,
life is an impression-
unearthed but felt.

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