My God

Her fingers so slight
Like blades of grass
As they sway in the wind.
She holds out her hand
Asking for mine
As she crosses over
From her world to mine.
As she steps over
Across the looking glass
Into my two arms

A woman I have seen 
In a thousand dreams,
A face I’d recognize
One that grew from within
A part of me
One I had given life
As I breathed life into her
Her first breathe was mine
Every one of mine since then
Has been hers

Hiding behind the mirror
Far from the gaze of this world
She lived only for me
Her every word, precious
Her every action, elusive
She rarely spoke,
Yet she said a lot
In each other’s silence we grew
She came from nothing
And became my everything

As I worship her presence
The very feet that stomp me
The lips that curl up a smile
Every time I cave in 
A duel we fought, 
One of life and death, 
Her victory over mine,
Was it my victory over her?
We were separate, to separate victory,
Were we separate, to separate defeat?

The man I never could be
She made me want to be
My life’s purpose
She defined for me
She was for me
A god, I created
Out of nothing, for nothing
Not in cathedral, not in temples
I placed her in the mirror
Her face on mine, she on me, my god.

Imagine....

At at time like this, there is one thing that keeps coming back to me..

Imagine by John Lennon




The lyrics are asunder


Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

How much is too much?

How much is too much?


How much of blood should this world see before it realizes that it is too much?
How much of hatred must we put out there before we realize that it is too much?
How much of insanity must we be exposed to before we choose sanity?
How much of loss of love must one bear, before we lose ourselves?
How many eyes must we remove for someone removed one of ours?
How many times must we kill before we kill our souls?
How many children should cry before we turn a deaf ear?
How many guns must we buy before we run out of iron?
How many bullets must we fire before we run out of targets?
How many buildings must be razed before we run out of homes?
How many women must be widowed because we chose to stand up and fight?
How many limbs must be lost before all the landmines are used up?
How many men should sacrifice their youth for someone else’s cause?
How many tears must I shed before my glands run dry?
How many times must we die before we forget to live?
How many ideologies must we extinguish before we decline to follow any?
How many religions must I change before I am let to live?
How many countries must I migrate to before you let me go?
How many times must this injustice go on?


How much is too much?

Of bees and flowers

A bee, flitting from flower to flower, in search of nectar.
Leaving behind pollen, on a fertile flower.
As the bee moves on to the flower to follow
Little does he know, he has changed the flower,
The flower remains a flower no more.
Fertilized, she becomes a fruit,
Shedding her petals, and her beauty,
She starts her way to rot!

An egg shell

The other day, I had this egg in my hand. It looked so fresh, and the thought of an omlette, with some chopped onions, a few peppers, a few tomatoes, and a pinch of salt, it seemed heavenly.

I broke open the egg and all I found was an empty shell.

I miss the complete unbroken egg, I miss the anticipation of omlette.

Walk On

Alone

Yet not alone

I walk
Forever

Freedom anybody?

This is a short post, rather a line of thought that I wish to pursue at a later date.
The usual definition of freedom is the ability to make a choice that is constrained only by personal, i.e. the decider's ability. This is to say that I have all the freedom in the world to do as I please and no one is going to question me about it. Obviously, this is not the freedom we are used to for we have to work within the limits of society.
My thought is whether there is another more sublime form of freedom, one wherein there is no choice at all.
I am FREE from having to make choices. The question that pops into my head is "Is life not a series of choices we make?"
The answer to that is a simple YES. Life is a series of choices we make. Since we are discussing freedom, and that has to encompass everything in life, should we not be free from having to make choices? Will that not be the most basic definition of freedom? Will that not mean that every point in life, we have the freedom to be, rather than choosing to being? In addition, as a final point, is the consciousness that we all revel in a reality? Do we believe that life is a continuous function of conscious decisions or is it a collection of unconscious choices?
Fleeting thoughts,
Claiming stake.

Dry tears

A secret,
One that she cannot reveal,
Covering every smile,
Painting every action,
Pain
She refuses to see.
Every moment she cries
Her dry tears
Unseen by my all seeing eye.
Her life, she says,
Is a sham;
A lie to the world,
An unsaid lie,
To a world
She refuses to acknowledge.
She chooses to live
In the shadow
Of times gone by
With hopes, none
Of the times to come.
She now stands before me
Asking me to wash away
Her dry tears
Running down her face.
The tears I see not,
Ones I sense not
For her pain
Is hers and not mine
Her joy is hers and not mine
For she is hers
And hers alone and not mine.
I smile
My all unknowing smile.
She understands,
Help her, I cannot
My hollow smile
On an equally hollow heart
Holds no love
To soothe her pain,
Holds no water
To quench her heat,
Has no fingers
To wipe away her dry tears.
She smiles in return
As she fills my empty heart
With her dry tears
And my empty smile
With her heavy heart.
Together,
We fill each other
Her pain to my joy,
My pain to hers.
At long last
Her tears laid to rest
In an empty shell
On an empty smile.

Best and worst

Identity

A thousand knowing eyes
Among
A thousand unknown faces.
My own eyes,
Scraping the floor
Averting gazes,
Missing eyes.
Yet strangley,
I am at home,
For here I belong,
This, my Identity.

Picture courtesty Balu - acetic acid