A Life within a Dream

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She departs from solitude
Goes into the deep, the deep forest-
Where Willows are sown to weep
And she cushions the sorrow
The sorrow of the beast
For he never knew the love he felt,
Was one to keep
The departed lunatics were baffled
When she came into the deep,
The deep forest where a million pains were reaped
Yet she moved like a princess
In the heart of the forest which was rather deep
There she stood, out of her solitude
Looked at the silver trees
The shadows of the stars and the red moon,
One stolen from its sleep
So she buried the promises which were never made
Deep into the creek
When she wakes up from her awakening
She will know that tales were written
And songs sung,
Wasted were the lovers
SO hung on its idea that when dawn broke
It was only a leap

Glory

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When death ruled the valley of fear
Destiny cried for the misery of its dear
But they went to find the valley of the dead
And saw that fear ruled it with pleasure
Hidden away in a mortal plane
The immortal seized the valley of the fear
Only to find it was nothing but–
The death of the dear
One can see and one can choose
To keep the eyes blind
But the two valleys–out of them
One would win and the other persist

Dipatches from Living

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What do you know about living–
The man who died a thousand suns ago
The dancing and the grinning
The lights of the dreamy, dreary shows
The illusions in the darkness,
The light within the foes
What do you know of living–
The dead man from ages ago
Smiling and jeering
Coughing and sneering
The drinks and the drugs
Drinking the wine of shadows
Eating the fruit of deceit
The lustful faces of ghosts
The greedy turfs of the libels
The man who knew of living–
Yes, he died long ago

Monochrome

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Sheets, the empty sheets
Like messages in a bottle sinking in a sea,
Of being lost
The painting of the Dame and the color red
Red like her blood…when they found her dead,
Lost in the sea
Like the whirling trees and their rustling leaves
Green like the hope of finding the seeds,
Of a Future which was bleak
Just like today, when I stood on the hilltop,
Looking at the sea

Burning Castles, Flying Mountains

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Where do mountains fly to? And why do castles end up being burned? Questions which no one asks and no one has any answers of. Why do we build up so many questions inside our thick walls of reasons? Where do these questions come from? Why cant we answer them?

This is no story, rather this is an enigma–a puzzle which opens up to more puzzles and more of them. Do we know where we are heading towards and why and what pulls us? Who walks along with us and why don’t they stop? What do we call the millions of dead dreams that we have to carry on our shoulders? Where do we bury them and why cant we forget them?

What is the meaning—the meaning of having so many stars shining up in the night sky while so many dead burning castles in the utter daylight glare at the slowly turning world. Why are we given and bestowed presents and why are they swiftly taken away from us? The music we can hear…and create and fall prey to–where does it come from and why does it come from there?

Who are all the people we meet everyday and smile at and then they smile back so we make small talk and soon they turn into larger than life conversations–all to end up nowhere-because nowhere is as good a place to be. But who are the people and why do they surround us and why do they smile when they can not even recall the last time they had a good laugh? Who are those ghosts in the photographs that we see every time we look at our pictures—just happy, pretending and staring right back at us as if mocking us for being out their alive—but dead. Ghosts mocking at us for being dead.

SO who set the castles on fire? Why did the mountains take flight?

Words, words and more words. Meaningless and fickle and so powerful yet so fragile and so loathsome. Words. My enemies and my friends. Dreams, my bane and my sanity. Happiness–why wisdom. Wisdom–my quest. There is water, but no one is putting the fire out. The fire which burns the castles. How can they?

So here we are, still stuck at questions and still asking around if this is the right way or which is the right way, seldom bothered about why this is the right way…or why this is any way at all for that matter. And here we are, shell shocked because we know there is a way. There always is and we can never see our way around it. This way; o heaven and to hell, to betterment and to the worst of our fallacies, to music and to shade, to light and to dark….so many ways. Yet no shelter and no cure and no where to actually be.

I set the castles on fire. I madeĀ  the mountains fly..because no one else would. So the mountains fly and from wayy up in the sky they see the castles being burned down to ash and dust so that it will, travel with the wind towards the mountains and become them. And when they do, they will whisper to each other how there was no way but all there was—was fire and dust and someone who finally let them go. For all they held were empty secrets that no one bothered looking for.

Castles on fire, flying mountains—together we all catch the final breath.

Thus the world turned purple.

 

 

World’s End–The Most Beautiful Place Ever

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No one knows, but there is a place somewhere around in the hidden realms of this world–kept well hidden from the local eye. The eye which meets every other eye, which meets every other eye–the common eye. This place is carved out of valleys and shade. This place is atop the most high mountains. The most secret shores. It is a secret well kept hidden. Upon the lake where water meets the skyline and the Sun is born. And when it grows old, it disappears like sound of silence. This place is called ‘World;s End’ and it is indeed the most beautiful place.

Gold is not gold here, it turns into wisp–golden wisp, so that at every Sun dance there is a hue of gold spread in such a way which entwines with the dark only to make it more beautiful. Here light is not just light–but a magnetic and hypnotic force which makes one–happy. An emotion which was never found, always sought and often forgotten. You see, this place is the horizon of everything that was and will be.

Here love is not born. Hate is not bred. Here neither things happen and none are believed in. Love-hate; the lethal combination which are both feared and both so very common. At World’s End, there is nothing like love to e thought to felt and hateĀ  to be known to felt. That is perhaps why this is the most beautiful place on earth.

Where the silver of the Moon breathes unto the Stars all the secrets which were never known to any one or anything. Here whispers just disperse and go about and here the Nightingales don’t sing but are sung to by the most mellow voice. Tears melt into the skin here and thus begins daytime.

Here the hollow voices and the vacant stares and the empty smiles don’t matter because here they all come to rejoice in the pleasant dark which seems so utterly magnificent–like soft velvet which amalgamates with silk.

This is my World’s End. I come here often, to sing to the lake and watch it turn into an ocean–with waves. Lots and lots of waves. This is my secret. Well hidden from the eye which sees the other eye which sees the other eye- the common eye.

Here i come by, in my solitude–which turns into mirth which turns into Tears shed by God. Finally all turns into vapor and disappears along with the smoke which emanates music–spreading.

Here, dreams dissolve but do not disappear. They take root, like the huge tree which gives life and shade. Rocks made of past—steady but pointy yet important. One can always stand on one and jump into the gushing waters and feel each breath as it folds and unfolds. The body struggling to catch itself. The mind–in control.

I come here often, at World’s End. Every time i come by, i see a world turning and twisting. Screaming and struggling. Breathing and dying. Dancing and flying. All of it, you name it, i can see it, feel it, hear it and….let it go. Every time i come to World’s End–The Most Beautiful Place on Earth– the world begins. Once more. Evermore. Always.

 

You and Me

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Left in the abyss, parched on the top

You and me, me and you

I find in you, what you find in you

I find in me, what no one does

You see in colors what i seek in colors

I seek in me what no one does

You hear in the storm, the beauty of the wrath, i

hear in the storm the wrath of the beauty

I hear in me, what no one does

You seek in you, the inner you

I seek in you, you

I seek in me, what no one does

You seek in me, so you find in me

So you hear in me, so you see in me

Naught else but You