September 24, 2008

nothrs k nved a eam to a

Some had dreamed a dream alone.
and they were told not to tell anyone.
No one must know and none must tell
about this dream to another soul.
It was a dream about some one
- some one who lived in their dreams and their world.
They all dreamed about this one,
they all lived and moved about him
except for him alone.
He did not have a clue,
just a suspicion that something was true.
Something was certainly going on about
- something very inside out.
Everything else seemed equally same.
It was as if it was all too strange
And everyone knew,
and felt the same.
He wondered if he was going insane.

He doubted if he was ever sane.
He wondered how
many times again...

September 15, 2008

Trial and Errot

We talk for a while
and we laugh and we smile
we try to be friendly
and we try it in style

we try to be honest
and we try to be smart
we try to be angry
we try from the heart

we try not to mind
we try not to care
we try to be loved
but we try not to hear

we try to climb
when we try to sleep
we try to surrender
when we cry and we weep

we try to be here
and we try to be there
we try to be someone
same place somewhere

we try to be
and we try to see
we try to believe
but not clearly

we try to try
we fail to succeed
we forget our victory
for the next thing we need

we breed
and we breed
and we try to speed
we try to be happy
we try to be freed

--------------------------------------------001 + e



September 13, 2008

Now this happens all the time...

The music begins and you take the first hit of a perturbation from the environment.

The magic dissolves into a river of pulses synchronizing with what you hear.
As time passes, the flow blends into the fabric of who you imagine you are and the sound begins to resonate with what you see before your eyes.

With the beating of the heart and the movements of the cars outside your window, your mind branches out into streams of thoughts budding into leaves of insight and flowers of consciousness.

The fruit of knowing what this means interrupts the metamorphosis of a chrysalis into a butterfly without disturbing the journey of the river heading towards a waterfall of delight.

A small portion - your ego enjoys a banal sip of this sensational moment and relishes false dreams of glory and power.
But only for a moment, because the next moment washes over the pithy illusion of some permanent image and submits you into the esoteric descent with the crashing of a waterfall. Gravity kisses you all over.
The flow accomplishes your every desire.
You are no more you.

For a while you bathe in the light of this moment and then you give in to the dragging force of eternal change.
A purpose seems to have been achieved and this feeling surrenders into a certainty that everything will forever change and forever remain - sometimes as you and sometimes as all that you consider within and outside you.

You break out of the shell that walled you inside a cage that you couldn't escape through - until now.
You realize the impossibility of its unbreakable existence.

And yet, in a sense everything is still the same.
A continuous flow.
An eternal show and tell.
You are you,
who you were a while ago.
And you are you who knew.
And you are you who doesn't know.
You are you who are the river,
you are the waterfall,
and the to and the fro.

Suspended on this wave you dissolve and you glow - you understand the ignorance that will eternally show.
The shell breaks into pieces, confirming your impermanence and you come to find yourself in an eternal reflection.
There is no need to hold on to it now.
There is no need to let go.

Now this happens every moment, and all the time.

September 09, 2008

Genie with the bottle

The next thing you remember is the Genie with the bottle.
There was a message beyond the walls of glass with a hint tied to an aged cork that separated you from yourself.
If only some sort of a miracle could send the Genie back to its home.
Alas, it only walked about from place to place, looking for its home - its only wish that its wishes would come true.

A wandering beggar spoted a horse tied by the tree that was too far from the lake.
The thirsty animal begged for the cool liquid, dreaming of its quenching taste just for its own sake.
The beggar simply wondered, "you can take a horse to the water, but you can never make it drink!"
And then....the fool just walked away.
The Genie watched from a distance and wished aloud, "if only he was a wish"
It didn't mean any thing of course.

Rescuing the horse and watching the beast submerge its insides in the apparently nonchalant water, the Genie decided to drink up some too.
It filled up the bottle with the cool liquid blue.
The message drifted away with the current.
Unaware, the Genie took a mouthful sip and felt as satisfied as the horse.

At the end of the lake the beggar washed his decaying face in the cool water.
The message from the bottle - the one with hints that separated you from yourself - floated in his hands.
He simply used it to dry the tarnished dirt off his face.
The paper fragmented into several pieces of muddied stains that denied you from yourself - forever.

The beggar walked around aimlessly for another year or two and then died in a fight fought on a rainy night in the alley where some very mad people fucked each other without mercy and a disturbing paucity of pleasure.

The Genie remained lost for eternity.

Some years later the horse was put down after it helplessly lost a very rich man a lot of money.
When it died it somehow remembered being rescued by the Genie with the bottle.
That was the poor creature's life passing by in front of its eyes.

The Ghost of the Beggar watched the whole thing and smiled, ""you can take a horse to the water, but you can never make it drink!""

The fool still wandered around aimlessly, except this time it was for eternity.

September 08, 2008

Next Question - Your Move

The dark side of the delusion gods is now hidden behind a veil of ambition and fake nobility.
The search for the truth has transformed into a Mobius strip where the snake-charmer pulls strings on a couple of numerical immigrants - driving them to see while his eyes remain blind with a fleeting sense of glee.

Light bends and when it does the vision distorts into a political game of up and down, with and without.
Somewhere around the colossal tree lies the innocence of it all. Somewhere under the shade of branches and leaves rest a pair of eyes that see everything - very clearly.

What needs to be done?
To become completely free is apparently the key.
Rejuvenate in the delights of the history that make you see what you see. Celebrate the pain that endured your survival and helped you to preserve that which really mattered.

Believe in your soul. Trust your thoughts. Paint your dreams. Live your song.
The explosion bears a mark of reform.
The fountain fades into an instant hanging suspended in a recent mystery.

Everything is in place.
This is how it should be.

Your move.