A dead leaf

He held the dead leaf in his hand. Fallen from its plant, it was left to rot and fuel its own origin.

Or it could be picked by a wind. It can fly away from here, it can sail to the lands the winds choose and finally i might settle in a land of paradise, forever in a new joy or..

..or it might end up in a land as dead as itself. It will then stay there, till something swallows it or lifts it again. But one which is dead?

When it was alive, it was bound to its plant. It nourished it like its brethren , it was one among all, acting like how all expect it to. But is this what a passing eye feels but never the one held? Maybe it is held thus, because it chooses to?

But doesn’t one dream of the birds in the sky, at least when one is young and can race the clouds? Is it that dreams are meant to be dreamt but never sought in life? Is it just, is it fair to just die? Is this how frail all this is?

Is this a continuum, where the memories are buried and memoirs forgotten, sooner or later?

We strive for living, we fight for survival, we work together, we rebel, there are new beginnings , there are old endings, a fresh burst of air here, more heat there, one for all, all for one, will it be in the end, that we all will come alive, like actors talking a bow as themselves and being applauded for the parts we played?

Is this all a fantasy, these endless possibilities? Is our imagination a tool used to lead us from reality, which might shock the living out of us? What is living, if we are to die a baseless death? But isn’t this what we see and learn? How is this real? Can there be something bigger which we are a part of?

Is it love, that we die for? Is it misery that we live for this long? Do we all wait for the day, when we open our eyes no more? Is it that the quest we go on, offers no more, for the recesses have long outrun the excitement of the path, unbeaten?

Are words capricious fabrications, just to easy the pain of knowing the inevitable ? Is the mind there only to paint a vivid misery when in joy and a blunt happiness when in sorrow? Is the past only to be a seed for a morrow and today a retrospection where we dare to water that seed and tomorrow the day when the leafs do peek again, a visage fresh and innocent that the first brush with the polluted air does font it of earth?

So much for a dead leaf. What beauty can there be in the dead? For once dead all that remains is to rot. But when alive, all that remains is that we die. But when unborn, when a dream, all that remains is to brought alive. Call it optimism, call it human vanity, call it that I try to hide from reality and maybe it is true but I will dream anyway.

I may fail again and again. But I will pick up leaves again and in them see much more than what I need to. It might all be a soothsayer’s words, but at least there is hope of a better morrow. The plant may not remind us of the leaf, but the leaf sure does make you search for a plant.

I believe there are magic flowers, do you? Even if you don’t I do. I can feel them, hear them, see them, one day I will get to them. When I do, I will show them to you, I will not get angry or take pride for how can own that which is already owned, unless it is a meek being or I elude myself by calling it is a gift. When a leaf is plucked another one might grow, but there is more to be given for that to happen.

You can hold water in your palms but can we stop it from evaporating? Only thing left is to put to use while we still hold it.

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The madman

Once upon a time, I found a key. It  opened all the doors I tried. And in one room, which I walked into , I found a madman.

He seemed to be talking to himself. Papers were strewn around the room. There was a musical Instrument , I noted(but I forgot which string it was) and also a football. When he saw me , he gave a rather rueful smile. Sorrow not his , but mine. He seemed to know, that I held the key. But he did not try to escape, rather he started talking to me. This was what I think was said between us. I have(for obvious reasons) excluded the initial part of the conversation. I regret keeping you in the dark about the secret, but then the war within me has not yet ceased and the land is still the ante, how can I spread ruse among the people , the bounty?

The madman:-Shhhh…its a secret..

me:- But why should it be?

The madman:-Because people don’t deserve to know it.

me:-Who are we to decide?

The madman:- Who can predict the masses? Nitwits lead by nitwits.

me:-But isn’t it our responsibility?

The madman:-You are responsible as long as you use are allowed to use your discretion.

me:-But don’t we have the choice? And when we choose to act , aren’t we accepting that we can withstand anything.

The madman:-True enough. That is why we choose not to be a part of it.

me:-But this a nation. We people are a part of it. If we don’t rise up the challenge, then no one will.

The madman:-Of course they will. You and me , will never be allowed to do what we imagine. We have a few good leaders among the thousands and they some how survive, some become sycophants , some are born into a creed and some are just destined to be.

me:-What if , we choose our destiny , by making a choice now.

The madman:-Tell me, have you ever felt at any point of time, that you should share this secret?

me:-Yes I have.

The madman:-Have you shared it?

me:-N…yes

The madman:-And, How did people take it?

me:-They couldn’t understand what I told them.

The madman:-Everyone?

me:-Everyone.

The madman:-Why do you think so?

me:-Maybe I didn’t put it properly.

The madman:-Maybe.

me:-Or maybe I chose the wrong people.

The madman:-Then you agree , that the majority till date , in the sample space you chose can’t understand a simple matter.

me:-Maybe.

The madman:-If so , can you think of the type of leaders they would elect.

me:-Yes, but isn’t it our responsibility to help them choose better?

The madman:-And how do you intend to do it?

me:-By simplifying it.

The madman:-You want to dilute it even more? What is it you are trying to do , add more water to the ocean?

me:-No…its not like that..

The madman:-Alright , tell  , do you think people will listen to you?

me:-Why do you think they won’t?

The madman:-Because you try to make sense of things,  you  try to see the source of problems..and that is what no one wants to do , at least they are not allowed to do that..

me:-But aren’t they free to realize that?

The madman:-Freedom? How can slaves be free? From the second they are born, they are bombarded with everything  that  which  we are against. It is not that people are bad or something , that is relative,  it is just that life makes them such..You call it inertia, they call it determination; In the end who is right ? Its either or neither and not one.

me:-But aren’t you the one who told me , that there is a right and a left , a while back?

The madman:-Of course and I still stand by it. Yes what is happening is wrong. We see things differently and we realize. We have , even when we were small , realized that you are not supposed to do certain things. We have  exploited our capabilities and our cognition is better developed. But tell me if I were to lock you in a room , how would you feel?

me:-Aren’t we all locked in rooms of sort or the other?

The madman:-We are. But how big the room is the question and also if it dark or if its got some light. Imagine you are in a small dark room , just big enough so that you can’t really touch the walls , when you are tied to one place. How would you feel?

me:-I get what you mean , but isn’t that our mistake?

The madman:-IS it our mistake that this world has people who are willing to exploit the masses? Is it our mistake that we cannot chaff with good stupor stuffing? Is it our mistake that all we seek is a peace? Is it our mistake that we become a kind of aliens if we were to stretch our heads to full sensibilities? What shall we do, slay the animals when we are against cruelty to animals? Can you tame a wild, fully grown beast?

me:-No we can’t , but we can help them when they are young.

The madman:-Exactly.

me:-So? Let me go tell the secret to the young ones.

The madman:-To what vain? You would have to take it upon your self to make sure they perceive things the ‘right’ way. And yes , we are like this because of our circumstances.

me:-But it is possible, if we can separate them from the society?

The madman:-And then how will you show them enough of religion, so that they respect culture and understand the functions of it but at the same time they aren’t be draw to the mania. How can you show them enough about difference in classes , so that they understand not everyone can be a master for not everyone knows ‘why’ they are doing something and at the same time ensure that they feel that no one is superior than another?

me:-But isn’t that the truth?

The madman:-That is not the truth but the reality you see. The difference is bound exist . But all animals are equal. And it is not that some are more equal than others , it is rather some understand equality better than others.

me:-But then if they do understand equality why do they exploit?

The madman:-When people know smoking is bad why do they smoke? When they know hurting someone is bad , why do they hurt? Some understand equality but only a few can judge and answer the why. We believe in equality not because it sounds cool but because we  need to be equal to everything so that we can talk the same language and make everyone feel inclusive and thus belong to everyone and everything. The reason for that is , we seek peace. We cannot tell a tiger to stop killing the deers but nor can we kill all the tiger. We cannot imprison the tiger nor can we reason to it, when it is hungry.

me:-Then? Anyway humans aren’t tigers.

The madman:-Yes we are not. But tell me can you talk about  your riches to a beggar? You do nothing but  tempt him. Is it possible for you to praise a dead leader in a land where he was loathed? You will only end up stirring unwanted emotions. Can you explain to a moderate that there are extremes? For him his grey , is bright enough and dark enough , if anything , he is happy to watch a silver lining on another cloud and say blessed are a few.

me:-But we are talking about Equality.

The madman:-Exactly. To the beggar, you can talk about the world. In the country you can talk about the precedent and the consequence. And you can agree that the silver lining looks good and blessed are a few, but then you can blow him a little so that he starts flying towards the sun.

me:-All that sounds wonderful , Yes yes. But how do you do it?

The madman:-That will be something you should search for. You have the key , you know it opens doors, but you should know what lies behind the door before you open it. A key without a lock is useless and the secret without cognition is worthless. And if you open the wrong door, you might let out the true madman.

me:-Aren’t you the madman?

The madman:-I am.

me:-Then did I open a wrong door?

The madman:-yes , you have. Your life will never be the same again.

me:-Will you be leaving this place , now that I have set you free?

The madman:-Ha but a home needs to be lived in and besides who will tell people, the others who open this door, the secret ? I cannot leave.

me:-But I insist. And I already knew it.

The madman:-Everyone knows , few realize it. You are a madman like me. I have locked myself , in my room and spread the keys so that people who I hope to meet , will come to me. You have locked yourself in your mission and you place the keys with a few, who know you. If either of us was free, we would never meet our kind. What is freedom, but the chance to realize our choices? Our freedom lies within and not in the world. How can we belong to a world which is not ours?

me:-I hate to leave you.

The madman:-We shall meet again, when we need to meet again. Our choices will lead us. So choose wisely.

And I left the room. I walked for a while, before I realized what had happened. As he said my life has never been the same again.

P.S:-

1)The title is borrowed from Gibran.

2) “All animals are equal but some are more equal than other” is a line from the book animal farm.

As we talk together

When I see light ,
I know nothing can die.
When I see you,
I know I need not fight.
When I know you ,
I know what is right.
When we are together,
The world not perish,never;

click here to read the full poem.

A thought

A single thought can make or break ,
A single thought can set life ablaze.

The power from with , prompts
And there begins the chain of thoughts.
An inspiration from the world,
Sets opens the dams and let flow,the thoughts.

Click here to read the full poem.

Religion, freedom and What to kill?

As a human being your place on Earth  is dependent on your “sense of belonging”. And we try to belong to a myriad number of groups , in various permutations and combinations , but ultimately the one that seems to scar the singular human comradeship is our religious affiliation.

To secularists it causes endless heart aches, to see humans tear apart each other. But then we have come to a point , where a few frown upon these secularists and the heads of such groups declare them as infidels or a threat to their religion and that they need to be dealt with.

Is belonging or not belonging  to a religious group all that important?

What has made religion the single autonomous power , with their various Gods?

One argument would be that man in general prefers not to take up responsibility.

The irony here is, we have taken it as our responsibility to take care of these religions , with our life and even more.

As we move into a new Era , where in we have started to accept that we need to change our attitude and our demeanour and approach to solving the pragmatic problems in living, the way we define our “sense of belonging” is quintessential .

The reason for problems is that we interact and in the process  two universes of ideas clash , the barring is too much to sustain a bi-ambitious world.

One way to ensure a mono-synthetic society is to conclude that suppression is the only way to maintain a balance. If we look at this syllogism closer , we will find that the major premise is that we need a balance and the minor one that suppression is the only way.

And this exactly is what religion has helped evolve over the ages of humanity.

I do not claim religion is the root of evil , rather that religion has been chained and is being made to do as the masters who control it want it to do. Religion in essence aims at freeing man and hopes to breach the boundaries of human perception.

But in reality the essence of religion lies in the minds of people . The majority of whom are  gullible, influenced  by the rhetoric of orators and politicians. The reason for this gullibility is because we cannot define what is “good and what is “bad” in absolute sense. The alteration done is so simple that many fail to see it – a change in the yard scale. And to change this , we first need to change the latter premise – that suppression is the key to the balance.

To redefine maintaining a balance in any other way , than the existing one, is going to be a task which is hard to even imagine – we would need to move away centuries of domination and slavery. Unfortunately , the method adopted in India(i.e. giving reservations) is a negative step. In a way it is acknowledging that we have become subservient to the pseudo dogmas. It would only strengthen the hold of the suppressive methods.

What is suppression? This is a important question to answer. I would call it curtailing ‘freedom’.

Freedom is again a word which needs to be defined. You can say freedom is that which gives an individual a proportionate sense of belonging and acceptance. And here lies the answer , to what we can try do.

We need to understand and appreciate freedom. The line between indulgence and freedom may be very thin , almost nonexistent but the crux of freedom lies in the way we perceive and interact with others. Of course we cannot interfere with the way people think or make choices for them , but what we can do is try to remove the vintage prejudices and sneers , by stopping them from reaching our future.

We should try to find our way to a better race , not by thinking what ‘God‘ would find comforting but by understanding that our decisions are binding on the future of our kind. It might seem Utopian to dream of such a day, for after all we are no more than a galaxy of cells working together to survive . But then doesn’t this galaxy coexist without any Upheavals? Of course you can say that their thinking capacity is taken away by the ‘brain’. But what is the brain , but again another collection of cells?

But of course there is always a reflex or death. We can say reflexes give us a short term relief , i.e. revolutions are a temporary respite and well that death is the ultimate end of a bad mind. But then what dies and what lives on?

This is the question , which religions have capitalized on. And through out our history this is the question used as a fear of tool. I do wonder if hell really did exist, didn’t those exploiters realize that they would be the first to be dipped into a cauldron of boiling oil? But of course they do claim that , they are messengers of “God” .

At the same time without fear and guilt , we humans probably will be out of control. But then , I think it is better we remove these fears created by our imagination and present to our kind the real threats – without proper cooperation and coordination our race might bring about its own end; Earthquakes, tsunamis , floods, drought etc .

If we care enough for the living – this is not just about  ‘healing the world’ , it is about saving ourselves. The world can take care of itself. Earth as a planet will go on for millions and billions of years. And anyway whatever you do , will affect the entire universe . And no it is not caring for the smaller things – it caring for the most important thing – the ‘I’ .

Kill religion? I don’t think so. We need to kill our inhibitions, which stops us from understanding.

Is killing justifiable?  Can you face yourself ?

P.S;- Thanks Indi for helping me in edit this 🙂

optimism and pessimism

The world seems to rush ,
calm and passionate ,
The world tries to repulse
The being into belonging.

Thought less actions ,
Valiant and confident decisions
Through the never ending days –
Somewhere a calender must end.

Materialist needs and wants,
Bubble happiness and disappointment,
Leading hue filled raiment,
The bold look- deference.

Laughter a relief ,
Smile a belief ,
Grip- to show we aren’t meek,
A loud voice, we aren’t weak.

Infinite patience ,
Trying to make sense-
Where a blind reverence
Thrives on a sour penance;

The serenity challenged,
The need to be indifferent,
Yet to feel is human,
To think even more so.

As if wont ignorance
Can cajole a man into callous
Penchant for the stained
Land(as it is) and

Kill the need
For purity and inheritance
The right of every member of the clan
Of human-a hand in the making of a nation.

Religious pride,
A sacrilege, a blasphemous divide.
A universal good,
Killed in the would and could,

Buried with a blood dirge;
Someday it will all be purged
By a tenacious will,
Of those whose sagacity wills.

Optimism-
The day is not far away.

Pessimism-
Who does have a say?

The light shines the brightest

Beyond indifference

Evanescences -the grin of happiness .
Yet beyond the smile there does lie ,
Tales of sleepless nights and endless fights.
Brawls with oneself ,as if the image in the mirror ,
Was afraid of what it saw in reality .

Some sort of truce ,
Even though the parties refuse ,
Is reached . Lest the wakeful
Hours be all too flee bitten by the scorn
Of the impatient self – impertinent .

Moments of madness ,
The bizarre gesticulation of reverberations ,
Endless syllogisms to accept life as if bound –
Painting the mind as a knave, who is chained by fate-
So that the misdemeanor of man’s whims
Can by buried , in a colloquy of ad libbing .

Yet something does ring ,
The cords of human ingenuity ,
The urge to break free,
See beyond the tainted tree
Of illusively constructed postulates
(The blasphemous baits)
And see the truth – still alive ,
As it is in the venerable roots .

Gravity maybe unseen,
But upon the ground we lean,
The feet do feel , the seal
Of some grave connotation,
The power of a greater imagination .

If being bound is an ambiguity ,
Then to break free a felicity .
The joy of appraising
The truth , the ego less divinity ,
The knowledge of belonging to infinity.

If only indifference could be smut ,
So that , it could be ignored like dust
Upon a windowsill ,cleaned with a cloth
Every now and then , when
A party is about to descend .

Yet its presence daunts and drapes
Into our very jovial spirits
And forces contradictions
To become an addiction .
By the presence of such negations ,
The mind loses its calm serenity
And hustles and bustles ,
In hope of finding a serendipity –

As if miracles can be whipped out of nothing ,
As if the Ether was detached from the weather
Of the stars and the galactic wars ;
Yet in the indifferent, the indifference seems
To take up a perch and poison the self
To divulge and indulge in its inaction-
A devilish penance .

For all that , belief is the quintessence –
the belief in yourself , in the waves
Of self trust , where you believe
That the light shines the brightest .
Where the path of ego less divinity ,
Leads to understanding of this transient Mortality
And the gory of indifference and its capacity .

The indifferent blows a conch
As if the final wars of the world
Were to begin at this new dawn .
Yet the glories of the understanding
And the sun’s first light ,
Kills away the plague within
Just like the dusk rays smother
The nonchalance of the day
And brightens the moon for a night
Filled with a serene , calm life .

The camphorous smile amalgamates
Into a deep deep profound joy ,
The belonging bound with understanding
causes the mind to feel the zest ,
The acceptance of life and the rest .

Mad moments ,capricious deeds –
Finally a epiphany to bring heed
To the one always known ,
The song of the one soul .

The light shines the brightest

Acceptance

A burst of happiness ,
A breath filled with reverence.
The hour of acceptance ,
The world ceases to be a menace
And belonging a definite- to the sense .

Yet the acceptance is not of defeat ,
But of the understanding the ability .
For all the known worlds , the stars
Exist and emit through dawn and day ,
Hid only by the scorching sun , rainy storms
And dreams filled with sleep .

Those dreams do make a world ,
Where in the days are spent
Watching the brain run away ,
Watching our actions make and create;
Our love breaking the walls of courtesy sakes.

Alive those dreams do come ,
Our actions inseparable from our virtues,
Throwing light to the hues of the dispersion .
At the sight of such shades , our vanity
Covered ego sheds the skin and exposes
The true face of the self –
Understanding of the light , its forms ,
Right-wrong , love-hate , ways of fate .

That we write destiny is the truth ,
That we abide by that prophecy is true too –
The makers of it we are and never are we bound
By that , for it is destiny that we do write ,
For the metaphor is to fill the spaces
Left by ignorance and knowledge is the scintillation
That the metaphor emits when it feels light .

Rise and fall of the emotions ,
The verses of anger and penance ,
The thought of those fears and
The speculation – all end when
We understand the beauty
Of the palpable world .

Yet that is that much ,
That unknown which we try to see
Fails to fit into our heads and thus feel
An ultimate peace . There is something
Beyond everything . If not for one ,
There is no infinity , If not for the thought ,
There is no belonging and life .

Ultimately acceptance comes from within –
When we know , we no more need
Those words of praise or the harsh
Words of a conceited being , when we
Feel at peace with the dreams –
When the world whispers tales ,
When the destiny follows the trails ,
When the pains feel themselves
And when illusions know their reflections .

Finally a breath of happiness ,
Some how there is some sense ,
Belief in yourself and confidence ,
Belonging is transient ,
Existence of one is permanent ,
Illusions remain in perception ,
Clarity the sight of the first star ,
The end – when no one is at war.

The light shines the brightest

Once I had a dream that I was a bird

From new camera1

Once I had a dream that I was a bird .

The world was below me and the world watched me . I was a crow , who flew over the high horizon of the city . Many saw me as a scavenger but within they all longed for what I could do , roam the skies . Yet there is this urge within which I want to fulfill , which humans have already part done – fly beyond this rushing ether. As I see the moon rise ,even as the sun goes down ( to visit my cousins across the enigmatic sky ) my heart beats with pangs of pain , the suffering caused by the urge , the need to touch the impalpable( that moon and those distant stars) , if only to know that the world is tangible.

 

From new camera1

I see across the terraces , many with their aims set , they bicker with the certainity of security  . And yet as time wans and nothing but the pale moon night throws shadows about , people become afraid and train their senses to the bright lights of their race’s creation . They never seem to think about the man who thought of those lights . The light shines the brightest , but the light is the substance , the sign but not the source itself . Even as it represents the origin , it is nothing but an extension. Maybe to us crows and birds the light is a sign of a  reflex glory , felt every time it strikes our senses . It shows that one day the divinity within will purge us and start the movement towards the unseen worlds .

Maybe it already has in me . Never have we seen anything but the dawn , followed by the day , succeeded by a dusk and left incomplete by a pensive night , peaceful  with a joyous melancholy . Maybe there is something greater in the universe , where in the trinities of belonging, i.e. instinct , person and thought are the mere stepping stones to  enter into the castes in the skies . Or maybe there is nothing , but I need to see to believe . And sight can be the most prejudiced of all senses , yet at least it garuntees that there is something .

If only we can see beyond the zenith , if only our existence was enriched by thoughts beyond the stars which invite and inspire and reinvent the sense of belonging .

The sound of life woke me . Yet the world spoke to me . The vibrations of my thoughts left me to feel that I was in level with the stars and that which is not truly palpable is the one which is beyond. There is something beyond everything . The truth is the means to an end – yet what is the truth?

Ego and divinity

Upon a peaceful ocean ,
A thought did rise . 
That thought did move
Within the worlds , as a screw
Would into a wooden hollow . 

As judgements were passed , 
And prejudices concluded ,
To all but a few the truth
Eluded . Virtues and vices
Are relatives at war , 
Divided by a single wall . 
On either of that does lie
A way – somewhere , infinity
They do meet and there 
Contradictions nay exist . 
Yet till that point there does
Seem , a world at a brawl ,
Within itself always ready 
To start a fire at the scent of smoke .

Forces greater than the container
Are contained , by the sheer inept
Of those contained to recognize
A frail misnomer . The forces so contained
Do pray to the within to discover
A better lens to notice the
Venomous drops , the poison .

And once the mind does locate
Where it seems the simple twist
Of fate seems to be placed ,
It does try to frame a case
Of revolution , an air of arrogance ,
The charm of ego and deliberation.

The ego is a way to feel the abyss
And not that which we pit against those
As wise . The ego is a virtue to protect
And feel all those below earthly morality .
The ego is to break the walls of discrimination .
And that ego is a screen drawn  not to
Close love but to open the eyes of justice.

The only justice is poetic
And as each action churns a reaction ,
The world watches with concentration
And tries to balance with a fervor , a penchant
Soaked in a universal beauty ,
The song of which brings a deja vu
And belonging becomes de rigueur
For every creature .

At such a stark moment , the ego
Becomes a wall upon which you do
Stand and observe the obsessed world .
As a prophet to the mortal , the immortal
Sires the world and becomes the inner star ,
Set at a spot , showing direction ,
The venerated divine , the harbinger
To the future , the holder of the keys
To completion of an ultimatum .

With such a serene posture ,
The hand and the paper become
One . As one weaves through the other ,
That which is drawn breaks the beauty
Of stillness and the mesmerizing silence
Only to carve a beatitude beyond
The revealed rites of revered veneration –
The ode to world through perception.

And on such paper and as the hand
Becomes the mouth that disturbs the air ,
The thoughts on the ocean form
A known citation , seen within
And calm the diligent ego to mere strength .

As towers upon an unseen base ,
You do stand and watch the height
Of the sea , knowing that written
On the shore sand is temporary .
Yet that penned into memory ,
Is the message , to be visited
Again and again , in time’s rein ,
To establish the threads ,
To relight the blown fire
And rekindle the presence .

Everything is an illusion .
And so let the world be .
yet within each sketched ,
Does lie a world , the creativity
Of another illusion – reality
Mounted idealism , The final
curve to the straight column ,
The finesse of mind’s design .
And as the illusion’s illusion ,
Takes strength from its perceiver ,
The creator , it does add a tantamount
Code to the encore of the world .

Yet a while it does take
For another to conquer
The imagination and rise
The almost moribund ,
A final twitch before disappearance
And cause agitation in
The being’s bosom .

At such a moment ,
The negations seem to add up ,
All in whole and almost real
And thought aware ,
Such is the nature
That the being allows
Th virus to infect ,
If only not to let the world
Be poisoned.

And such and such is called divine
By plenty and worth a merry hail
But they do fail , they fail,
To see that it is not scarifies
And the ego’s penance ,
But that it is a discovery
To thrall the abyss by
The sheer resistance of life –
The strength of the wall
We do sit upon , the power
Of that which sits on the wall
And the stars whose lights do connect
The world by illuminating the world .

If not for anti , the ego has no existence .
If not for fear and guilt ,
The world would not be built
As it is but would have been formed
By the hands of creation –
The procreation of thoughts upon
Thoughts , the pro evolution
Of mud into bricks , of dusk
Into a dawn , memoir
Of man’s visage when he
Did see that he was free
To contemplate the way to the stars
And to carve a transient image on the shore
And letting the ocean the one to hide
That which is at the other side of sky’s brink .

The soul of life is divinity .
The beauty of movements ,
The culture of souls to choose ,
The ability to be alive .
Divinity is the way we feel ,
Divinity is the veracity .
And that truth which it represents ,
Is a means to an end .

At a solvent moment ,
The ego dissolves .
The viruses are none .
The illusions float below
And the world is a calm proposition.
Life seems to be drenched
In itself. The containers break ,
The Pandora box is overridden
As the world feels the hands’
Alacrity to be itself .

Life is life .
The world is alive .
Everything is an illusion
And we live in our perception .
Veracity and its integrity
Are the natural scales which we adhere
And as the notes of a song
Whatever pitch we breath
And ours heart’s beat
The love we feel
Will set us free .
For revolution is action
Where we reveal to ourselves
What we are , the action
Which frees us from the ordinary
And makes us to be the divinity .

Love is a essence ,
The flavour to let out the strings
And understand the world .
Love is the soul’s delight ,
For it is the fire of the fight .

As the world comes back alive
And the waves do eat the sketch
And reality is set alight ,
We do feel we belong ,
To this , that which is a metaphor
To our life , that which hides
From our sight , that we seek
For lending a meaning to life .

The joy of ego less superiority ,
The joy of divinity .
The God you are is what you will be ,
The God the world is ,
What you want it to be .
The God ultimately ,
Is the God that has to be .

Truth is not the end
But the means to an end.

 

The light shines the brightest