Which journey…

Picture courtesy: internet. If this belongs to you, I am willing to give you credit or take this down.

I wonder if I would like to live the journey of the rain. There is a freedom in its fall, direction, unity and ends up moistening every form with its healing touch.

Or, would I like the journey of a road that bears the heat of the sun, the beat of the rain, the screeches and the weight of its passers by, but shares a glossy affection saved from a long time only to be spent away in a moment.

Or, would I like the journey of the street light that finds no onlooker through the day and whose existence remains overpowered, yet it finds no rest when it is the pitch black night just so that it can bring to life, everything that it surrounds.

Or, do I continue to be in my own journey that lets me be in awe of every other journey which I come across.

And the question drops…

Picture courtesy: Internet. If you own this, kindly let me know. I am willing to give you credit by adding name or link. Also, willing to take it down.

An empty seat awaits your presence and when you occupy it, I will be rowing you silently through an ancient route. You sit there on the other end of the boat and look around. As you will find me absorbed in rowing you choose not to ask me that one question and you keep it for later. Then when you gaze the grasslands and the infinite sky a shimmering golden breeze kisses your face and you feel strange. For you know this breeze and this recollection will make you feel like you know every pixel of what you see and you know every grain of your feeling.  Like you know everything about everything here for ages. Like something is speaking to you and waiting for you to break your silence. Yet, your silence is your only language, your only means to express. You look at me and I raise my head. In the moment, something in us knows that a word will be too much. Your question drops. And, a wordless journey on an ancient route goes on..

Inseparables..

Picture Courtesy: Internet. If you own this, I am willing to take this down or give you due credit by adding your name or link, as you would wish.

What is the ground to the grass, water to thirst, mother to its baby, tree to the birds, sky to the stars and the sun to the moon?

Is it that one is and therefore the other becomes? May be.

But then, how would we acknowledge ground without grass, would there become a mother without being a baby, what is water’s value without a thirsty, a tree without the fluttering birds, how do you realize there is sky without the stars or know that sun exists at night without the moon?

There is no cause and effect here. Just the inseparables perceived from different spaces and at different times.

Choosing courage today..

Picture courtesy: Internet. If you own this picture and have a reservation against me posting it, I could take this down or if you approve, could give you the due credit by adding your name or link to it.

If you see this picture, you could choose to see your fear or choose to see your courage or may be whatever you connect to when you see it.

I am choosing courage today. I am willing to silence/ignore the noise of fear today, of anyone or of anything.

I am choosing to listen to the faint voice of courage to do what I must do and amplify it within and so much that it reaches you too.

I am taking that jump to reach where I must reach.  And you, go for it, what ever that may be!

Experience – here it goes, there it comes..

The mental demand for permanence in an experience is a source of
discomfort.

No experience, be it that of sight, sound, taste, smell,
touch, feel or relation (ship) is sustained permanently.

The Winter Call

The pain of Deciduous, with the winter setting in, was growing deep. This was its first winter since it stepped into adulthood. It had been shedding cherries, flowers, and leaves, here and there, all through its adolescence and in a way has been aware of their seasonal departure. This winter, however, it was losing them at a tremendous rate and volume, so it thought. It didn’t know what was wrong but was certain that something was. It had been nourishing its kin too well. It spread its roots into every possible inch of the rock and far into the soil to pull water and food for all its beloved. So much and more only to find them part this way.

Of Mothers, among other things – By A.K.Ramanujan

As a part of my initiative to publish poems that I deeply connect with or am moved by, I share this poem titled Of Mothers, among other things, which is weaved sublimely by a famous Indian poet A.K.Ramanujan.

…electrified to live with each, through all.

Picture Courtesy:  Wilson Lau

Life keeps changing tracks,
Chugging snakingly between sands, snow, trees, etc.
Through seasons charring, numbing, drenching, etc. But, I am…

Three Line Tales

Within every yarn..

Picture courtesy: Wynand von Poortvliet

Challenge: Three Line Tales

When exactly countless saffron gossamer were knit, my personification was complete and came into being. At the point when all these fibers were wrung as they should have been, my yarn, was possessed, by a spirit.

Ripped apart by mankind in their tugs-of-war; Tightly clutched by two trusting innocent hands, sitting on a swing hanging from a tree; Cold sea numbed every strand while anchoring the ship; Distressed while holding that neck in the gallows;

There are ruptures on the outside, now, threads tearing apart, and the damage is beyond repair. The appearance is changing fast, and soon, the saffron won’t last. The cuts are digging deep, threatening my survival, but, something has held me strong. It is the indomitable spirit unperturbed by the withering outer state of my yarn, and, which promises to remain till my last strand becomes a mystery.

Rise !!

Trust me. I have been there where you are and maybe I am worse than you on a certain day, even today. Empathizing with you has been possible because I can sense what you are going through which is possible only because I have lived experiences similar to yours, in essence. The nature of those experiences or the causes and effects of them could be different but the pain, agony and distress we go through remain the same.

Where I sit today, I sit with a tremendous realization that running away from life is the easiest thing for me to do while it wouldn’t solve the problem I am facing or rather the problem I am hiding my face from.

Rise !!