Friday 28 June 2013

Accounting for the losses to Friction.

Let's discuss the exhaustion I have come across in all these years. I feel like a steam engine coming to a halt .The chuk-chuk train that let's out a hiss of exhaustion as it approaches some station that is en-route it's destination.

My destination was defined as something beyond infinity, a dot on the horizon that I have been chasing, My eyes towards the sky, people think I am counting the million specks of dust that float in the trace of the sunlight. They say I am aimless, they would, they do not see my destination. What I have envisaged through the hopelessness of the clouds, the gold of the sand and the chaos of the waves. How would they ever spot that one dot that I define as my destination.

All through my life I have been warned of the non existence of a utopia, the illusion of a mirage, the fact that infinity is uncountable (not that I am counting my way to it). All through my life I have been busy making a realization of what I was told is impossible.  I tell them I hold the dot in the palm of my hands that make an enclosed circle around that dot. I have been happy rounding of the distances and covering them and making that circle at each milestone of my life.I have been happy experiencing infinity.

Now I am exhausted, because my experiences I have begun to feel are mine alone. I do not have anyone to share the heights, depths, understanding, love or passion of them with.
Now standing at a certain station that is en-route I feel exhausted. Though every station en-route has refueled me and I have felt the charge building in steam and the lost being found. Lets see how long before I resume my journey to the shore and then beyond, tracing the dot in the horizon.

Wednesday 26 June 2013

Stream of Consciousness is rather spontaneous in sub conscious.

It was a relief that most people talked to themselves. I learnt when I asked them questions. It's a horror what they talked about, it's aligned perfectly in a rather smooth fashion, like a cleaving stream from the ridges . I should have never asked , I should have never known because it's a horror when I complain that my thoughts are swirling at a rather tumultuous velocity.

What are these thoughts that cloud our heads? Monologues ,stream of consciousness .I  have a stream with rather choppy waters, You could raft in them and drown if you trip on the rocks that barge against the flow. Thought permits it as a characteristic, the eccentricity of the choppy stream.I am not quite sure of it as a desirable trait though.Sometimes I have found whirlpools in the stream. They should not exist in a river.
Then it makes me wonder if everyone I know has built a damn in their heads that controls the flow.  Practicality sake, they have.

That's when I learnt that it's not wise to transfer your thoughts to people at the rate you think..... most people do not..That's when I learnt to quietly observe.My thoughts would flow past and I would raft on them myself, slowly but surely it became a river, a smooth flow because I became used to it. To me it's in sync with a rhythmic flow. I do not have to charge the waters in the direction of my speech.My actions in rowing the raft try to keep up with the water flowing. As for the people around me, I learnt that their streams met with rather terrible landslides in the flow, hence the waters are muddy and the flow is ruptured. . It was not that their thoughts cleaved the ridges. The ridges fell in and they stopped to flow in their element.

I meditate sometimes. That's when the brook is cleaving the ridges. It's spontaneous, not barred and it flows with the rhythm I desire.

Thursday 20 June 2013

Lamenting(part III)

Of all the things I undo,
and undo as knotted strings,
I have learnt to fret not
but rue the misgivings,
of a woman so foolish in love,
or a man so blind in logic
 so staunch in pride
that vulnerability sheers to tragic
and to have them both in one,
fragile glass like frame,
both daunting at the surface,
both extremes in the same.

Of all the things I rue,
I rue one not my own,
such object of a life,
misplaced in misfortune,
I  could feel the two spirits in me,
I wonder if he had one,
What flames does it take
 for the soul to twist and turn,
be such as a coil of a weak alloy
be such as the vapours of
a substance smoked to dry.

Of all the things I give up,
I give into this one rue,(I hoped forgetting was brisk)
oblivion never found my doorstep,
it was in haste to find you. (easier to find stone obelisks)
Of all the things I love,
I wonder what is my passion,
An unnatural borne progression,
Epicene in it's nature,
for you were dead I now know,
 the two spirits in hate I harbour.

Tuesday 18 June 2013

Why Do We Fall?( That quote from my favourite superhero flick,to ponder)

So that we can go through that rush that defies another force intruding or acting upon us, streamlining ourselves with the entropy of the space we exist in and just learning the term surrender. The free fall before the crash.The little resistance of the air,that like hope stays afloat in the atmosphere,and we let go of it as the concrete is near,despair. It teaches us to despair, let go off unreal. We fall, to see the inevitable occur and realize that everything we have done before however substantial it may have been is biting dust with us and hence everything we do should lead to the moment of contentment that we seek In that one moment and nevermore shall never more be thought of. We fall, to rest, to redeem, to remember,to revive.

In deed, we fall to rise again. A Fall is to Rise.