Thinking on the move - Feel

Attachment till when its allowed, detachment thenceforth. You'd do well to be happy for what you had, but the memories will always project into your days, what could have been. Its a wise man that can let go, but wisdom entails a certain coldness of spirit, a rigidity of boundaries, that cannot co-exist with a mind in flight with disdainful wings outstretched.

When the void is bigger than the life you've lived, what then will you fill it with?
The spirit within the bottle or the smoke from inside the green shisha? A haze, A mirage to drape that gaping hole. A silver fabric to make the loneliness a little bearable, even beautiful, at times. A shudder, the dam breaks and then the deluge.

Much later, you stumble awkwardly into sleep, a slumber much safer than the waking life that awaits behind the horizon of the night sky. You know there will be water under that bridge again, the same one on which you stand day after day and watch yourself living, loving, hurting and healing.

But knowing is never enough, never has been. So we will go through this yet again, always learning something about ourselves, as long as we don't descend into a stupor of foolishness, dictated by the hubris of man. A self assumed weight, known to have thumbed the strongest of men and women, into the clay beneath our feet.

It never felt so good to cry

And never felt this right.

Pain did never flow out so,

Like it does tonight.

In the face of this squall

Do not build a wall.

Dive in and feel it swell.

Feel it all and feel it well.

Society

Once again, the knot strikes at my soul
I can feel it burning a gaping hole
As I fail to understand this baseless lore
And its held me in despair before.

How can it be that we have sown
A garden full of thorns on our own?
Where every step we take is beset
With strings of expectations and cultivated regret?

Frustrating boundaries and vile fences
Jump them and there will be consequences
Dwelling so far from the simplicity of existence,
We have betrayed life and its very essence.

You are but a mere shadow passing through
And yet you find the time for your prejudices and rules
How many of those will you carry with you?
Will it all help you when you're lying dead and drenched in fuel?

Oh! the unfairness of it all
Will I ever overcome and stand tall?
Will you ever see what I have seen?
And go where I have been?

A victim of YOUR thoughts and YOUR rules
Should I follow in the wake of the fools
To be accepted and to have thee
Or sever these chains and walk away free?

Help Me?

Gone are days when you were you and I was I
Now we're ruled by rules and expectations
Careful where you tread my dear
There's some strings you don't wanna sear
I've looked and searched all I can
Seems there's no way happy, out of here.

Wont you help me? Wont you help me?
Wont you help me to see?

If my life was my own to live, would we,
Have held our hands in silence and walked away?
The knot within my heart it stings,
Pouring out with every word I speak
The wave of fate is above my head
Gotta dive if I want to see the light

So wont you help me? wont you help me?
Wont you help me to breathe?

As I close my eyes this night,
Know my love you are on my mind.

Wont you help me? wont you help me?
Wont you help me to live?

Slash and Burn

Splinters flying everywhere,
There's a hint of red up in the air
And then the silvery sound of glass
Comes bouncing off these lonely walls.

Torn and jaded by the consequence
Of my desire to jump the fence
Thought the grass was greener at your end
Yes its greener if I can pretend.

If I bait and wait, trust my fate,
Will this ever end?
Or should I slash and burn as seasons turn
And see what's around this bend?

Bunch O' My Brain - Weary

Crimson is the color of this evening
That burdens the very crux of my soul
It rips my heart and makes me sigh
A clanging, empty, vessel that but now was whole.

Thinking on the move - A Serene Submission

Lounging out in the backyard, feeling the cold nipping at my toes, I am led to believe that it is for nights like these that philosophers live. Surrounded by such harmony, as if the heavens hear you out and do your bidding, one cannot help but feel eternally fortunate and humble. The great sky above hiding an army of stars, nebulae, galaxies and black holes and other cosmic wonders that I am too ignorant to understand. It saddens me to think how my meager capabilities cannot afford to help me even begin to understand what lies beyond. A wealth of cumulative knowledge to base upon and ponder, lies at my feet, and yet I stay a mere fool who turns his step at the slightest breeze that happens to graze against my fickle skin. Curiosity lies gasping for breath under several heavy folds of seemingly worthy desires; such is the folly, the vanity, that I yearn for the sugar of a rotting apple in a blossoming orchard.

Shadows cast themselves governed by immutable laws on plastic chairs, made by machines of steel, hissing and snarling under concrete buildings - all of them conceived and brought into existence by the mere sparks of a limitless mind as it toils away. Perhaps towards a higher errand that is worthier and greater than what we are capable of perceiving at this point in this apparently pointless game. Who am I to take on this challenge of unraveling the eccentricities of a supreme will that passes majestically, unaltered and oblivious, despite our zealous attempts at affecting a change. Having understood all of this, if I call it foolishness to go on, I should also understand that it is outright sinful to submit and stop. Right here, in this room of thought, lies what is probably the central dilemma that stifles and inspires us at the same time.

Given that we submit to what's transpiring all around us, we would fail if we were to cease our attempts at understanding our surroundings. We would most definitely fail if we were to stop appreciating the complexities and intricacies that are incessantly unfolding and folding back into themselves. We are all staring at and dreaming of purpose on a tiny piece that is all of a speck in a giant jigsaw puzzle. The immeasurable cruelty of this situation being that, this speck is all we have. Riding on the pomp and self assumed grandeur of our feeble steeds, we wish to give birth to a shrewd eagle that will carry us to a higher ground. A vantage point where we may gaze upon a more meaningful picture before we set out again to quench a never-ending thirst for purpose where there maybe none.

May the novelty never die, may the glint of a far-fetched notion of completion ever spur us on like a distant island of diamonds, may the wind restlessly ebb us on to a purported haven where lie the answers to all our disquieting questions - may we always find beauty in our paths that lead us to a destination which is no destination at all.

Thinking on the move - A blotch of ink

Money, relationships, food, people and places - they all get gobbled up, assimilated and spit-out without  making even as much as a blotch on the answer sheet. I continue to wonder if this is nothing but a passing phase in the cycle of development and ruin of the mind. Did my parents feel this same way at some point in their life? "Of course they did", I tell myself. Or could it be that I have been gifted the liberty of this thought, the price for which my parents paid with priceless sacrifices?

And what of the multitudes of unfortunate folk that struggle still to fill up their family's plates, once a day? Are their minds stuffed stiff with worries and numbed by the coldness this world shuns them with? Do they feel happiness? What is their motivation here? Screw that! What is MY motivation here?

Semi-anchored to a quasi-stationary continuum of time, kept afloat by a source-less desire to learn and tied down by material and emotional bonds alike, what the hell am I supposed to be achieving now? Given the blunt truth that points to the sheer cliff of purposelessness, am I supposed to find a way up and yonder? Am I just an incremental change in an extremely long series of mutations that will one day create an all-knowing being, at the culmination of evolution? Is there something more to me than the throw-away trinket that time makes of me? If this is indeed the way of the world, where do expectations, love and emotions fit in?

Giving it some thought, I am led to believe that these are all implements devised to goad an individual to push oneself harder and harder, sometimes against all odds. Maybe these are all a means to an end, just like my salary, my job and status in society. Society in itself being a continuously evolving contraption, a social structure that dictates norms, urging the majority to fall in line on one hand and at the same time, stirring deep a rebellious potion within some, to construct a recursive, ever raising bar of desirable achievement.

If this is indeed the truth, I must set out on a quest immediately. A quest for perfection or something like it, of the mind. And to give my mind all the time I can, I will probably need to keep the material body, now a mere carrier, healthy and capable. But I forget about the worldly distractions that hound me incessantly, that smile at me from the sidewalk, ever enticing me to digress. Soon I will have to discover a meaning and purpose for all these aspects of life that I now conveniently yet unwillingly label as distractions. Until the time that I am able to do so, I must think, read, question, whet my brain, and revel in the joys of learning. This for now must undoubtedly be my immediate and unwavering goal.