and try to reach,beyond our reach

Even as hours passed,
in the visage park,
life just crawled across.
A feeling old,
a feeling new,
sometimes life was threw,
sometimes life is new.
Even if a somber might
take the face,
within there is the thrills of the chase.

The soul power-
the fluttering of hours,
is just a moment,
lesser so,
in one of timeless boundaries.
A million circles intersect,
and a tangent to all,
is born in the interment,
on which ,once thoughts
feel the relived spark,
they grow the wings
and decide to fly,
lest we be buried so alive,
in the rituals,
which are too aghast-
it is only for the past.

Even as memories remain,
we need to see across the skies,
who says young or old,
determines profoundity,
or mere grey, serenity?
Yards and yards,
miles and miles,
yet a few spots of colour
is all the remains.
When is today,
a knowledge of the past?
Unless one can see so far
ahead,propelled by some rage
and made to write a new page,
in the works of the world,
because of some wordy hurt.

Neither is a moment,
written, not gullible,
the forces acting along
and across,can always be added to
or something new,
might just push or pull,
the leashes of the circles
and gravity might be seen
and matter might become obsolete.
Nor is it too gullible,
finally everything fuses
and fission is not too loose-
To release a few, might be,
but finally to integrate
and achieve the desired fate,
it churns and predetermines
even as freedom is more
in an element contained,
rather than a world of skies
and will,for in such,
essential is survival
and not living.
Yet without marked points,
a few can still float
and live,
for that is their will.

And such people are those,
to whom,their home,
is a place of solace-
their home within,
the one filled with
dreams and thoughts
and ideas.the universe
may seem dark,
yet there is enough
light,to throw clarity,
on the visage
and put things beyond age.

As the skies are blankets,
and emotions the heat within,
there is a sense of existence,
as something does breath in the shell.
Through it we feel and see,we dwell,
within it and with it move
across this myriad world,
We know and get to know
and many more are relearned
as we flow,flow and flow.

Knowledge is eternal
and truth perennial,
both not the end
but means to an end,
the end being
endless,yet bound
to something which
we cannot comprehend.
Until the day we know,
what is the beyond of the beyond
what lies beyond the eyes’
sight and beyond the feelings
feel,we need to stroke
and poke and revoke
and break and ultimately
make and live our path
among the all,
and try to reach,
beyond our reach,
not in vanity,
but for eternity.

The truth is not the end,
but means to an end.

The light shines the brightest

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Forever,the divine eternal shall glow.

Forever,the divine eternal shall glow.

Yet for a few moments,something takes over,
and things look like,as if there is no better,
and everything ends and shall witter.
And for those moments,
you are caught,uninspired,almost lifeless,
lest that life be frivolous.
But it is an illusion,like any other,
and the bloodless pallor,
is soon replaced by the brightest
which will take you and your life,
to new,oh!new heights.

The night,is a gap,
but there is no lapse,
in the presence of light.
And it is your battle you wage,
and for guidance
you have nothing else but cognition,
your tool which will lead to salvation.
The good is spread and strewn
and mixed and set to a tune
it serves those who seek
and always separates the mighty from meek.
timeless,like the ocean,
whose life is beyond estimation,
it flows and sings to those,
who desire the elevation.
The mystic hours are deviations
which finally will make you yearn
for the place where it all began,
the place called home,
where you return after the roam.
There within,it you will find,
though unused,it is warm,
and the old serenity,the calm
returns and the world turns
and runs,for its opinions
are thoughtless and God bless,
it can’t face the boisterous
who boils at the sight of hypocrisy
whose discipline is such that
sometimes,it looks like lunacy.
And yet,in the madness,
the notes fall into place,
and the song sings on its own
and you ascend to the throne
of your own make
and will live for your own sake.
Up above the world so high
there it lies,
the one which closes into this dry
and beaten land,which you wish to fly
and get the better of and aye
that is what your desire hopes
and emotions are the boards
on which you build the craft
which shall protect you from the harsh-
everything caprice and baseless
arbitrary and the ruthless muscular fury.
Your intuition shall show reason
and for satisfaction
you shall go on the mission.

The birds fly,
the stars rise,
the earth lies
and at that sight,at the zenith
there is no vice
for the wise is the one,
who knows what lies beneath
and what awaits above,
though not in facts
but in abstractions where it lacks.
The divine shall shine
and the eternal is mine
for within i can feel
and without it i am meek.
What maybe its name,
and even if it will end in bane,
I am ready to face,
everything,to where i raise
for the belief is greater
and in craziness lies my sanity.
Let the world cry,
let it proclaim,i am vain,
but to me it is all the same,
all that i have to gain,
i shall and those loses
are repressed in the depressed-
those hours under the grey
clouds of hellish profile,
where the world got its say
but it will never have its way,
against the storm,who blows
with knowledge and belief
that blowing will give it relief
and that ,it is its life’s work
are to break and tare
for in its destruction
shall the tree be trimmed
so that a new branch can begin.
The balance it shall give
to the world on the whole,
for destruction it is not,
it is doing its part.
And those who claim to be storms
can fake the appearance but never
the trust and tenacity
for such is the truth’s intensity.
The twig writes destiny by being a twig
and the meek fail to fill the pen
and expect to be forgiven
for the destruction of beauty
whose eternal magnanimity
is so blessed that,it shall live
forever,for it has no enemy
for everything has a desire to be free.

The world shall be at peace,
Within me at least.
What is see is what i perceive,
and what i feel is what i perceive.
And what i perceive i shall act on
and on that act,my name shall go on.
For white is white,
if i see so and the black,black
if i see so.And yet,behind all that lies
a thought greater than the sight,
the unknown,yet alive
which flows and rains
forever,without any exchange
for its value can never be waged
and it is saved by the rage,
the frenzy of the one who sees
it and wishes to belong
and at that,it will never go wrong.

Forever,the divine eternal shall glow.
To me people come and go,
and the world throws
and tries to fill me with remorse.
Yet the joy within i need
and that i seek,
and to think i exist
and my existence is my pride
and it shall last until i die.
The gloom will pass
and that which will last
is life and that will strive.

The light shines the brightest

The Fountainhead-Ayn Rand

A master piece. 

A book which is profound and well amazing! What is your value as an individual? Howard Roark is an architect, for whom architecture is everything.Creation is the hightest virtue of mankind.Those who scumb creation and consider it the property of everyone except the creator,are second handers ,the parasites.And Roark has to face them all,the great ‘society’ against a single man.Goodness,will always remain in those,who believe in it and in themselves and whatever the cost maybe,their is more joy in sticking to what you believe than in giving up and accpeting the tag of ” nobody”.

That love is reverence and worship and glory and the upward glance.Not a bandage for dirty sores.But they don’t know it.Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who’ve never felt it.They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy,compassion,contempt and general indifference and they call it love.Once you’ve felt what it means to love as you and I know it-the total passion for the total height-you’re incapable of anything else

One can’t love man without hating most of the creatures who pretend to bear his name.It’s one or the other.One doesn’t love God and sacrilege impartially.Except when one doesn’t know that sacrilege has been commited.Because one doesn’t know God.

The book is one of the best if not the best i have read till date.The book makes you realize that humanity will always have the two classes,those who create and those who eat the creation and the creator.It shows you that belief in yourself is more important belief in anything else.Life is what we make out of it.

The egoist in absolute sense is not the man who sacrifies others.He is the man who stands above the need of using others in any manner.He does not function through them.He is not concerned with them in any primary matter.Not in his aim,not in his motive,not in his thinking,not in his desires,not in the source of his energy.he does not exist for any other man-and he asks no other man to exist for him.This is the only form of brotherhood and mutual respect possible between men

The book gave me the confidence that I am right.Thinking is the way to live and for us to survive we need to think.The book showed me that the path is the same for everyone,when one desires to achieve something,there is always the society,one which doesn’t have a particular source,except within each and everyone of us.There maybe a lot of parasites but our aim is to create.The parasites can feed on and on,yet they can never drain out the energy of those who are born to create.

man cannot survive except through his mind.He comes on earth unarmed.His brain is his only weapon.

I love this book,for all that it says.And the truth is that we all here for a purpose and that purpose,is the goal of the self.It is not the goal of the masses we are here to fulfill but THE GOAL- to do what we want to do the most.If you haven’t read this book,read it.And think while you read.

Picture from here.

I exist because I think.

The light shines the brightest

nay purpose,nay life?

so a lack of purpose,
led to creation,
and we are all suffering
without any ultimate relation.
A knowledge ,from past
has ceased in its grave,
for there is no purpose to save?
then why live?
then why remain static,
in a world which is,yet dimensional?
if purpose is none,
why have anything at all?
if purpose is none,
then none exists behind
the dark universal veil?
If there is no ultimatum,
if there is no purpose,
then why should we breath?
or for that matter breed?
If no purpose can be found,
behind every wall or cloud,
then why have them all
scattered around in the reason
-purpose dead intersection?

if there is no purpose,
then why be born?
then why be dead?
why cannot we be static at rest?
what laws define the infinite
finite,which at its shore
impresses a sense of profound secrecy?
Why a humbug race called humanity?
which though bothered to define humility,
is at most times is full of hypocrisy?
Why if no purpose exists,
should a few strewn reminiscences
of ancient quest be buried,
deep inside a sands hurried?
Why at all if no purpose exists,
do we even seek a knowledge
which we believe will free
us of this mortal bondage?
why do we seek purpose?
for what do we seek purpose?
what is the origin of need
to be purposeful?

If purpose can define life?
then what is it?
yet we seem to think
that ,not a purpose exists,
but an infinite might,
which we call as the universe
and our own selves.
What is the cause of the universe?
or is it too a purpose lost
thought,an impossible notion,
in the minds of creation.
Yet we say none exists.
so i ask what is the purpose
of non existence? whence
does it appear,a need to
fill an aesthetic grotesque
art,with a perception
which not even the artist
knows of, even in completion?
are we too small to see
purpose?Why are we, then too small?
Is there an end,where purpose
ceases,where purpose breaches
none but it self to annihilate
itself and reveal the true core,
even if it is sore core,
after all the dark drills it bore?

If purpose exists to everything,
then let it be in everything.
I am aware yet cannot perceive.
are my dimensions too cute
that the gory art of purpose
falls at its beauty? if so,i say
none matters,but the purpose,
for which i seek purpose be filled.
For the perennial universe
of questions,which all seek
a divine purpose(which is all),
there is a perennial universe
of solutions and answers,
one which parallel yet the same
as the question.If both nay
exist,then no theism can be filled,
for money might be made of matter,
yet its value is of the administrator.

Purpose,i ask what is your purpose?
If love fails purpose,
then let everything be struck by it,
so that none question you,
who is full of unknown purpose.
If love it is,let it be,
we are all blind and cannot see-
a love which is too big that
only our breath is able
to perceive, a taste which our
knowledge initiates us to believe
that it is the blush of love,
which is the fodder,
to fill our hunger-
derived from the thirst of purpose.
If lot it is,
then let it be love,
which paints the world,
for if not the world will lose purpose,
in seeking purpose,you
who is sly as a shadow,
who is the hands behind
the wheels of destiny,
which we say is the purpose.

Purpose,purpose,purpose,
let us ,love us.

the light shines the brightest.