"And a bird without its wings is a lone and tragic thing"

Breathe not into me a life,
that coils me to a body
in the storm of one breath,
there are thousand such deaths.
and I have flown and found
that the bird comes back to a nest
and brings the twigs strewn,
keeps them with the rest.

And caged and caught
I may sigh to sing,
and trap my violent wings
in the fringe that freedom is
as it seems from the cage
and my wings would cut in rage
and my wings would fall in rage
"And a bird without its wings
is a lone and tragic thing"

Prison Break

Every time I start to feel the gush of fresh air in my lungs, a musty smell from the cells takes it's place in my nasal tract.

Every time I break the shacks and try to run from the binding rules, they tell me I belong not to the cells but the padded room of an asylum.

Every time I seek a wilderness to build my home, a rampant agglomeration starts to build around its need to inhabit.

Every time I seek solace in solitary confinement of my self, they tell me I need to be tried at the will and the whims of those who confine me to their existence.

Every time I let go of ropes I find a fiber of the string dangling on hanger hooks to my flesh and suspending me in the atmosphere.

I have begun to wonder if I have lived my life in paroles I have from the inevitable imprisonment in a structured sustenance.

The sea of Okhotsk....I am the island.

Navigation through this sea is almost impossible in the winters.I am the island that stands frozen midst the ice.
everything around me is the white sheet that covers the bubbling life beneath them. stranded? Not so, here by    the desire to be unpossessed. . Claims to me are numerous yet I am abandoned, do I regret?

I stand here in between grandiose and puny . Large land lost in it's own vastness is one of my my neighbors, mighty in nature and expansive like an ocean of land, tumultuous in endowments but laid back by choice, scattered in it's ravished and pristine landscapes, fertile yet barren, still so vast.
Puny, the little dots of lands, overflowing , virtual life, swinging in schedules,so much that each second gone is on the pulses of the living who tick like robotic devices.A vigor that would send a floating feather from one end to the other shore over the mechanized tracks, and the feather would fade in a whimper as it is swooped by the wind that entails the machine in motion.

Both on the map, one by the virtue of it's natural endowments and other by the virtue of their proliferation. I stand devoid of any. Most complete in my existence ,off the radar, off the map, a safe haven only visited by stranded boatmen and curious tourists. Uninhabited, untouched, utopia in it's solitude. Left alone, sustaining life on it's own. The sanctuary of all that lives in neither extremes, that knows the tales of both , that rest with none.
An island I am...an Island I'll be, not in the remotest but midst life, cut off from the worlds by sheets of ice. Cold ,pale ice that would thin on the crust and then melt into the Sea of Okhotsk.I'll stand their with all my wonders intact , visit me perhaps, I do not ask of you to stay.Please do not stay.For now, the sea is frozen.

A temple of thought that is as ruined and refined.
debris that pierce through ravages of time,
A wail echoes like chants in it's prime,
deep abyss, oh depth of the dead.
sleeping like those who never rise,
a requiem is all left of a reprise.
reeking of the rot,
the dead leave to the living
through graves they dig
and thoughts in engravings.
they never change.
Are we dead enough?
Are they living enough?

Love perverted
Lust,Greed, Gluttony

Love deficient
Sloth

Love malicious
Pride,Wrath,Envy

and yet yo say you say
not absolve of Love?

Love redeemer
The penance for all these love,
 hold it to virtue
without the sins above?

Love not despised
is love left untouched
Not a virgin
but a whore
off her path .

Evermore(Lamenting part I)

Infallible...you are,
and my imperfections are at stake!
vanity, pride all human mistakes
but you and your composed aristocracy
sweep with grace such blatant fallacies.
infallible,you are
and I fell
only I fell
and I only fell.
I fell and for you I fell
but infallible you are!
such cold perfection exists alone,
in deities etched,
in cold ,staunch stones.

Consideration

Spontaneity urges me to pen this thought down. Hence it is my own, Stemming from the authenticity that is much branched, twisted and debated. I write today with the absolute indifference that I hold towards the 'other'. Neither my despise, nor my delight reconfirm my thoughts today. Should I even label these thoughts as thoughts? NO. They are merely the ingrained instincts that have overflowed to fill in the void.

In emptiness have I realized what fulfills me . My essence or my existence? It defies it all today. The theories the philosophies all kept at the brink of understanding. this is just as I am.I write and I write, Not merely words that spot a blank page but engraved inscriptions of my being. Is there anything at all that I have put to consideration? the norms , the belief, the questions, the doubts.Now I pause.

Why? this pause breaks it all. I  am tempted to label it as authenticity still. The Frommean way exists. It says consideration would also lead to the same conclusions.I doubt. The seed of Consideration plants the weeds that rot the oak of all my belief.