That One Person

I sometimes wonder why we are the way we are,
If a god did create humans in its likeness,
they left an anxious mark.
Maybe humans made a mistake to drag themselves out
of the oceans and climb down the tree.
We were better off swimming in the ocean without knowing
that we could erase the lands guilt-free.

Building systems around us
saying that we are creating methods.
Great satisfaction when it forms a full circle;
confusing systems with rhythms present.
Child becomes a parent – what a pleasure!
Waste becomes food – miraculous nature!

Circuits, orbits, revolve, rotate,
We want an intact round trip.
This is no wonder why
we are so afraid to just trip.
I wonder why were we created this way,
so cautious and anxious about our lives.
Till I met someone,
who gave me a hint why.

In all families one is born
in their usual circumstances.
Usual childhood, usual upbringing,
nothing ‘special’, no madness.
and then “Just cannot follow, cannot listen”
“You wish to help, do it like us”

With energy stamped out of them,
they lose their will to live.
Second-hand lives are all they crave,
and a system gets built.
That one somehow creates a glitch
with their force; shining with all
their dynamism and continue to live.
 

No systems, no round trips
can contain their selves.
That one person keeps going
till the circle becomes a point.
That point becomes a creation,
and the circle is dispelled.
 

This is why we are the way we are,
anxious and habitual.
To create that one-person
so luminous and vital.
That dynamism reveals what it takes
to realise one’s likeness;
to become a human idol.

Self absorbed much

I, me, mine.
Just me, only I.
I fell, I cried.
I fell on you, and you wiped
your tears. I only saw mine.

Always me, I,
That’s it. Only my
anger, fear, dried tears. I said
I understand your pain.
I tried to see the glass I broke
but felt only the shards. I lied.

You? What about mine?
Only me. Am I
Ouroboros actualized? It’s funny
that I glorify. I am spineless.
I raze myself, self-sabotage. Snake personified.

I am the snake who
convinced them of the apple. I
want to blame someone else
but it’s only me. I am
snake, Adam, and Eve, all tied.

I am the snake that
is under no control. Shiva
had the snake wrapped
around his neck but mine
strangles me, spitting venom. I am
the snake which bites itself, I cry.

I, me, mine.
A venomous snake that injects
me with my venom. My
tail in my mouth. Needless Ouroboros,
I don’t want to bite.

What we are

It takes a remarkable depth of
effort to recognise effort;
beauty to find beauty;
pain to see pain;
genius to perceive genius;
humility to see humility.

It takes a profound breadth of
ugliness to find ugly;
shallow to meet shallow;
pettiness to behave pettily;
hatred to spread hate;
pride to see pride.

It takes an abundance of
anything to see it in others;
To have it within us
to find it in others;
To see in others
is to see in us.

We need to have it in self
to see it in others;
that malice, that violence,
that brilliance, that piety.
What we are is what we see
in ourselves, in others.

Untitled-I

Comfortable Jeep, Enfield so royal
Leather-fur coats and jackets.
Seeing far-off, difficult to reach places,
Mountains have never been so cordial.
“How beautiful! Trees boreal!
The waters are sparkling clear!
Colours green and blue.
I’ve never felt so surreal!”
Sunrise is celestial, sunsets are classic,
All colours feel real.
New perceptions arising due to
a break from the habitual.

When I am my age

“When I was your age
I had to live a certain way,
do certain things,
behave a certain way.”
“When I was your age,
I was already there,
doing certain things,
Following a certain way,
Struggling and trying,
This way or that way.”

Now, I am my age,
I try differently,
No interest in history.

Context is good-to-know,
Helps acceptance grow.
Knowledge of ways is good-for-info,
Great intellectual limbo.

Skies

The skies are not afraid
when birds soar high.
When sun spreads yellow,
when clouds cry,
the sky remains mundane,
prosaic and dry.

Sky has never demurred
of the birds puttering around.
Never once complained
of the elements
spotting it’s vastness,
drawing patterns across.
Sky never screams in agony
when the thunder rips it apart,
It remains unambigious
letting the cloud do it’s part.

Flame

Looking at a flame in a closed space,
Running the fan at the lowest pace,
Flame is stable, flame is flickering,
It sometimes dances, mind is bickering.
Dancing flame looks appealing
Yellow, bright, swaying, pleasing.

Room flickers with the flame,
I only see what the flame shows,
Room looks unclear, many shadows,
Brightness is uneven, room looks narrow.

Flame occasionally settles,
It is no more just yellow.
Dark brown at the center, yellow surrounds it,
blue covers it with a clear glow.
Room no more sways,
It is visible with greater clarity,
Shadows still remain,
only limited to areas not lit by the flame.

Water

Is there anything more beautiful
than form devoid of form?
What twists, turns, bends,
to objects short and long.
Is that a hurdle,
Is that a gain,
is what a rock might say.
To formless it means nothing
anything more than a way.
It gurgles, bubbles, lashes,
trickles, swaying away.
From one sight it comes to you,
From other it goes away.

Greatness

There was once a man who wanted to be great,
great in the eyes of others, great in his own eyes.

So august, so unlimited, that he fixed everyone else around him.
Bound them to himself, bound them with himself.

He applied his ideas upon them, enforced his thoughts upon them,
He imposed his experience upon them, imposed his greatness upon them.

Advised them to be like him, advised them to do his bidding,
Tutored them about the ways of the world, counseled them to act like him.

He morphed himself into a figure of his own belief,
In an expectation of excellence which he knew only in his limitations.

He molded others around him in his limits,
Devoid others of their own infinite, devoid himself of his own infinite.

He finally became great, a restricted greatness it was,
surrounded by boundaries of his own imposition,

His power was fragile, brittle, and weak,
his power felt powerless, with many, at many times.
He still didn’t feel immense despite such control,
such greatness he had, such power he would yield.

He wondered what could have gone wrong, he wondered what he didn’t manage.
That’s when it occurred to him, that he was fiercely controlled.

Life longs to live

Think very carefully….
There is a habit,
genetic as it is,
but a habit
of waking up each day.

If you had to choose to wake up,
would you want to?
If it was a decision to be made,
would you make that each day?

Throw out all your existing ideas.
Ideals, ideas, rights, wrongs,
presumptions, baselines.
What, Why, How.
What you have, what you want.
what you love, what you dislike.
What you have achieved, what you have not.
Your wishes, your hopes,
Your expectations.
Forget it all.
And think.
Think very hard till everything in you
gives up.