In your memory I write this

In my dreams you exist

On my thoughts, like the glacial rivers -

ever-fed, the sustained life -

Of you I like to live

I write this for the bright sunshine

On the days we awoke entwined

For the child that awoke

In me, in your arm

While the world paced by

This was one of my early ones while waiting in the light and shadows of love in the usual place.

the heart does play its fiery music! the heart has, yet again, set out to play the ever more fiery music much fierily that ever!

what the heart (just cannot be said is fully enduring) intends to do is break in, through the loopholes of stockade amidst all! it is this fieriness that conditions the blazing, wild, but harmonious music that i play for you. like a burning star that glows for itself but catches the eye of argus.

to tear down all blinds within the stockade, to love and make love. to fill with love!

the previous post is an unfinished one. but i still chose to post it since the journey ended.

the heart, i hope, i wish, will continue to play its fiery music...

The world is whizzing by,

The workers working, the dreamers dreaming

What is worthwhile, in this illusion

Of ideas, is you...

A little light, but an illusion nonetheless

A piece of 'maya' that I make real and beautiful

That I embrace

Eternal Quest

Is there no alternative?

Is there no other?

Is it universal?

The same functioning dominance even when you try to defy it?

Politics now govern love?

Are feelings, then, real?

Is reason, then, really and actually reason?

What illusionists we make!

How we clap for magicians!

Empty Or Full?

The want flares up day after day to fill this white space that glares at me. While I sit staring back at this space, with my fingers on the keys, determined to colour, my mind resembles a cobweb of intricate thoughts that are hard to dissever or compartmentalise. In fast motion, I leaf through this labyrinth also thinking about you; both of you merge. You become everything, everything becomes you. I try hard, like finger-combing, to disentangle the mess but all that is left behind in the end is a coil of hapazardly knit black wool.

Silver poking out

Amidst the dark shades of ash

The wise breeze

Somewhere a car honks

A bird responds

A drop here, on dry leaves

A drop there

The crisp sound

The far away sky

Where dreams fly high

In the dusky light

The tall dark trees

The silhouette of an eagle

My racing thoughts

Interfered

I look up, look around

The world surrounds.

Donnybrook

There are arguments

There are words

Like waterfalls pouring out of the heart

Like fire burning down all blinds

Buried and forgotten deeds

Unearthed with linkers

Like envisaging water

In a sucked out bottle

The conversation goes on

Tireless and weary 

Like an epic taking twists and turns

Like the overlong braid of Rapunzel

A break

At the dusk of events

Glistening drops follow

And liquescent hearts couple

 

Lead off

As I sat in front of my empty dashboard I wondered why I created an account if I was not going to post anything. I logged out and subconsciously my brain still kept wondering. Only later, while thinking about a film that i had watched, did I realise that I wanted to start anew and dedicate it to you. 

On this rainy evening my blog has started its innocent journey, as my mind is muddled with broken stringed thoughts which, when put to rights, can play the fiery music of the heart.