Words are but for expression,
a means to another end,
scraping beneath the surface,
peering across the bend.
The meaning lies in the canvas,
that I must paint with thought,
I can but conjure puzzles,
the answers must still be sought.
Answers I wish are profound,
to mysteries not too small,
while I worry I'll not solve any,
I'm scared to solve them all.
Why can't answers we choose,
from as far as the mind can fly,
must we ever run out of rhymes?
must the child ever die?
to be continued. Someday.
“... There is something awe-inspiring in loosing all inhibitions.”
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Hypnotized
Every now and then, I see something so nice,
daren't use two words, where one would suffice.
Because I am afraid, I'll violate its meaning,
with even a tad of gloss, a tiny bit of preening.
It stands so perfect, not judged nor criticized,
there is nothing to say, just drift away hypnotized.
daren't use two words, where one would suffice.
Because I am afraid, I'll violate its meaning,
with even a tad of gloss, a tiny bit of preening.
It stands so perfect, not judged nor criticized,
there is nothing to say, just drift away hypnotized.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
What is forever?
Eventually all my past gets reduced to a snapshot. A snapshot somewhere in my mind. It does not necessarily have a past or a future. It's just there. The mind's way of compressing and archiving old times I guess.
I remember a 3 year old, sitting by the canal. The canal right in front of my house, trying to get his car collection to float on water. (No points for guessing who the 3yr old kid was). Apparently, the cars were metal and I saw nothing of them after that. But I don't remember that, people tell me about it but I don't remember it... only that scene, a 3 yr old by the canal, from the entire first 4 years of my life.
And there are more. The shrivelled old woman, what was her name.. amma? walking me to the skating rink. She was our maid. I was 7 then I think, but the picture is vivid, very vivid.
My grandfather and me holding his little finger (that was his way of holding hands). Is that all I remeber of him? Possibly.
The empty water tank on the top of the building, and three kids inside, feasting on the raw mangoes they had just plucked(I think stolen is a better word) of the tree. How old was I then, 10?
The not quite so little kid, peering through the telescope. His first sight of the orion nebula.
There are no photographs that capture these moments. They probably aren't even true. I cannot have seen these things. They are in the third person! Its like the mind moved aside and captured the scene. The scenes in themselves probably happened though.
The thing is these moments are generic. They are just everyday things. So how does the mind choose which of these to preserve. Is it completely random? Or is there some design?
Which moments of my life now will stay with me.. forever? And which won't?
I remember a 3 year old, sitting by the canal. The canal right in front of my house, trying to get his car collection to float on water. (No points for guessing who the 3yr old kid was). Apparently, the cars were metal and I saw nothing of them after that. But I don't remember that, people tell me about it but I don't remember it... only that scene, a 3 yr old by the canal, from the entire first 4 years of my life.
And there are more. The shrivelled old woman, what was her name.. amma? walking me to the skating rink. She was our maid. I was 7 then I think, but the picture is vivid, very vivid.
My grandfather and me holding his little finger (that was his way of holding hands). Is that all I remeber of him? Possibly.
The empty water tank on the top of the building, and three kids inside, feasting on the raw mangoes they had just plucked(I think stolen is a better word) of the tree. How old was I then, 10?
The not quite so little kid, peering through the telescope. His first sight of the orion nebula.
There are no photographs that capture these moments. They probably aren't even true. I cannot have seen these things. They are in the third person! Its like the mind moved aside and captured the scene. The scenes in themselves probably happened though.
The thing is these moments are generic. They are just everyday things. So how does the mind choose which of these to preserve. Is it completely random? Or is there some design?
Which moments of my life now will stay with me.. forever? And which won't?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Another take on the "why"
My answer to the last post is well.. I don't know. But I am obsessed with the why. The how, I do not much care for. It's an unsettling obsession, because it's easy to lose the big picture when you also like looking at things up close.
I shut up in lively crowds, go morose in happy times, because I lose the why - why I laugh, why I am happy, why sad, why pensive. And in times like now, why I am restless. And I don't know why. Or maybe... I am restless because deep inside I know. And I don't know what to do about it? Why?
I shut up in lively crowds, go morose in happy times, because I lose the why - why I laugh, why I am happy, why sad, why pensive. And in times like now, why I am restless. And I don't know why. Or maybe... I am restless because deep inside I know. And I don't know what to do about it? Why?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
A solitary expedition
Not too long ago...
The first day of winter, if there is anything like that. There was work to be done, a lecture to attend. But I knew I wouldn't do it. I would not stop by the turn that led up to my class. No not today. I would just keep walking. Past the university... into nowhere. The light snow flakes nestled on the cheeks, dissolving into that occasional tear. The trees were still bright, clinging to spring as long as they could. For them as well as for me, it was time to move on. It's in my nature to resist. But I grow with acceptance and it overwhelms me. The beauty of solitude and starkness. Of the lake perfectly still, rustled only by a gust of the chilly wind. Of the white sheep dog that comes running at me from nowhere, and plays with me, as if we've known each other forever. I am thankful for what I have. I learn to appreciate it. And yes, accept what I can't have.
The first day of winter, if there is anything like that. There was work to be done, a lecture to attend. But I knew I wouldn't do it. I would not stop by the turn that led up to my class. No not today. I would just keep walking. Past the university... into nowhere. The light snow flakes nestled on the cheeks, dissolving into that occasional tear. The trees were still bright, clinging to spring as long as they could. For them as well as for me, it was time to move on. It's in my nature to resist. But I grow with acceptance and it overwhelms me. The beauty of solitude and starkness. Of the lake perfectly still, rustled only by a gust of the chilly wind. Of the white sheep dog that comes running at me from nowhere, and plays with me, as if we've known each other forever. I am thankful for what I have. I learn to appreciate it. And yes, accept what I can't have.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)