The supreme solace is in suffering and the sole sapience is existence. When you forget to live and long to exist you've found your hell, which is more intoxicating than a potion of absinthe. Life keeps inventing something that would eventually lead to death, a long way to freedom. You do not fathom it in its arrogance and its pathos but you keep on trying. In this manner creation lures you again, with enrapturing hopes for the future which shall never come, and lulls you into dreams of more than mortal ecstasy, so while you listen to life's siren strain, you sigh ..
Nebulous time, moments between
sleeping and waking engulfed me,
for a split second I was born again
as a graceful gazelle, a humongous
leap could alter present time, and
another better season could follow,
then the second past and I was me,
trapped in life, a time which,
goes on and on
Reality this morning corresponded uncannily to a nighttime dream that I frequently had. The universe seemed contained of these moments in this room and the room was filled with music. I watched as my body began to quake and I saw my head snap back and my eyes roll in their sockets. My body froze and wriggled as if in a death-dance. The muffled half silence took on an underwater blur. Sounds lost their origin. It told me in some odd way that soon the pain would be cut in half. Why could I not make the first leap from my place out there and plunge deeper ..
when time appears to loose it's motion
when mind and body seem to drift apart
a rippled serenity, an eternal melody
free of our masquerade, our own lies,
reveling sublime joys which fears nothing
wishes naught, resents none, and
sinks deeper, into a delicious stupor
There was an elusive figure dancing just in and out of sight. Certainly it was there, enjoying every minute of distress. I savored it too, not only to discover the strength and weakness of my own being but because it tied me to the only feeling that remained in the small world. Escape was the only thought, I didn't want to be touched by any other notion. And then .. sunlight penetrated through the window .. clear warm sky crossed with broad swaths of illumination and a gibbous moon fading at the horizon, which gave enough luster for me to gradually gain a sense of the space I was in, although I lay just beyond tapestry safely silhouetted in the darkness, and life seemed miles away from there
Things never seem as bad as they were when you are away from them. I feel so .. normal. Normalized me, ridiculous and wonderful. When you return your fingertips are black with old dust, and no doubt new inferences. I am hiddenly flush with the mountain air, memories of the falling quiet, where there was no sky or earth only mist lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the senses and then my favorite hour, when the phantom light of the moon imparted on all objects a shadowy tinge and a somber hue. I was elated to find I'd gone to sleep when the earth was camouflaged in subtle shades of gold and beige and brown and had awakened in a world that shimmered silver.
Even somewhat grateful to be depressed and without anything like the will power to set the mildest fantasy in motion.. I've returned with a bag full of junks that I pick all the time. I rarely adorn them but its one of those vices I don't wish to give up. For a few trinkets and linens the fossil might be restored to life and then my acquaintance with living, whatever it had been, could begin anew though with the same old, rusty pain deep inside the chest.
Talking of vices, I am trying to give up smoking for the first time. I gave it up for three months unconsciously and had started again. This time around, I am resolute. There is no reason why I'm quitting “coz I love the after-taste of nicotine. It sometimes seems to me as if in its nacre-glossed odor one can behold all the sins of the world, passing through your eyes in a cheap display and to top it up with a lovely fog of wine in the brain; exquisite.
The simple cadence of an everyday occurrence, the complex strains and motions we repeat, the monotony of living, sigh sigh .. When you live, you must either in your reasoning start from higher more important places than happiness or unhappiness, sin or virtue in their usual meaning or you must not reason at all. So I won't reason. Life for me would be complete when its both vivid and obscure, full of argot and swelled with archaicism..
Note : Sermons are injurious to my health .. Kindly refrain.
Its good that I am dabbling again, after such a long time, but I have no clue why I write. My words disgorge one after another like skyrockets. I play with them. I wish they become symbols, and symbols relate to and develop multiplicity and interweaving of themes, each of which augment on a rotten pile of my quest and confuse me further. Who the hell wishes to find something ? Not me. I wish to get lost forever. Everything is tainted for me and I have given up on retrieval.
The molten July heat was so intimately invasive that it crept into my ears, neck and even my thoughts. It has become pleasanter. It rains, pelts, the drops spewing horizontally like bullets in a shelling, a lead curtain of waterfall blown sideways. The variety of rhythm the patter creates seems to be of a nervier pace, has more edge, more drive. It's a kind of rain which makes me insidiously anxious, in the way of some recollected alarm, a warning, or turning point. It usually rains here like an ordinary downpour, a thing of chance. I wasn't waiting. The smell of rain is all around, the heat ebbing out of concrete. I still like the scent of soil but now I hate rains.
More rain awaits me, where I am going. Its going to be a small vacation, amidst great watery sunsets, wild frenzies of blossoming plants, suns colliding with stars, wisps of carelessly cavorting hair. I'll be back in a week and continue this mundane business of writing vitriolic poetry, if poetry it is.. wishing they turn into exquisite morsels, delicately layered, each crowned with its own maltose, in the form of a tiny flower
See you after a week.
I don”t understand.
All my posts have disappeared.
I did not delete them, this time around.
They have all vanished on their own.
Disgusting.
Rediffiland sucks big time.
I don”t have time for its eccentricity
To Hell with iLand and rediff.
Duh!
