Message from 1600-China.

Translucent porcelain

shattered in vain
this time has broken
into pieces again

The sand has spilled
on the island of seas
the sun is shining
through one broken piece

Lifting its gaze
the mind seemed to freeze
at the sight of disaster
unfolding with no ease

Words from the past
are NOW out of sync
the future reveals a canvas
whitened by fading ink

Purposefully we wait
in this present sort of moment
and our ideas about fate
come back from where they went

Are we really awake then?

Perspective # 3.14

Beyond our skin, our facades, our charades, beyond the walls and fences around us, beyond the boundaries, conflicts and contradictions, beyond the atmosphere, the sun and the moon - is infinity. We are here - now.

Where are we? Are we in our bodies? Are we in our mind?
Its all moving - constantly - time.

Past, future, and now - are just images - symbolic communication.

Matter - in our 'material' sense is finite.
If we look beyond, we are part of infinity.

Futile Enlightenment....

Last night I dreamed
of exploding moments
when universes were born
and the minds that had dreamed them

It was like a mirror
was floating in space
Reflections of emptiness
on a starry sort of face.

Eternal motions
were dancing insane
Time was an explosion
Space was its name.

The future and the past
were locked in its cage
One was imagined
and the other - an image.

What next?
I wondered.
And I wondered,
"Why? ...Why even try?"

Circular Arguments

Absolutely true.
We agreed upon a subtle point, a moot question, and an uncertainty that lurked
constantly between the brain and the heart.
Its all metaphorical really.
We think with our head and feel with our heart.
We feel our thoughts and we think its the heart.
In the end we are again at the start, wondering,
"where to from here now?"

But by beginning to stay on or off before burning the cognitive bulb one needs to consider flying without wings.
Perform an unnatural task, if there is any such thing as that, and it will become instantly clear that the murky confusion of pursuing these questions was irrelevant in comparison to the redundant insights obtained in the end - or at the start.

The long and winding road encapsulates flurry beings that our minds carry along with our soul. We come to birth and die while a countless moments imprint upon us the persistent illusion of reality.
Its a game, a joke, a poke in the sides of a giggling mind, a melancholic tale of masochistic eccentricity - resting before exploding freely in our collective consciousness.
To do what we have done before we need to think of what we need to do.

Circular traps are present around every corner.
Triumphant Cinderellas are watching dreams beyond fading TV screens with Latin sub titles flowing in Arabic scenes.

Directions. Some of us are past these things.
Some of us just cannot stand these meaningless themes.
Some of us just don't care.
When we smile at ourselves in the night we feel safe in our secret insanity.
Our disturbing identity is mysteriously hidden behind the countenance of normalcy.
Its all apparent, and we all know it.
It is just that we have no choice.
Its too much work to cause an upheaval of societies.

So we trail along like the ants up an ant-hill. We serve the prodigal queen and we wander aimlessly in her search.

Besides that its all absolutely true.

9 to f.i.v.e.

When the sounds of the resounding thunder melted in the afternoon air, the trailing dust and smoke from the bus settled deep within the confines of mundane memories-slipping away one at a time. The people seemed to be everywhere at once but going nowhere in particular. Some were aloof and some were stunned. The highlight of the ride was the beggar who seemed to smile with a hint of tears in his eyes. The blue sky above begged for some more rain.

The clouds seemed to care less.
They just drifted away.

Across the green the golfers swung their clubs. The water was placid and glassy, almost like ice. As the passengers moved ahead and got off at their destinations, the driver began to grow restless.
The bus was emptying in quick succession.
Soon the last stretch would be spent in constant loneliness.
But he never talked to anyone.
At all.

To whom the directions were sent, those people simply wasted away their time on the non-trivial banalities of splendid games.
The winners and the losers were all out on board - ready to fight at the sight of the flag.
Peace was lost in the checkered patterns of right and wrong.
"Which side are we on?"
- they all wondered.

The blinding light of the late afternoon faded into am exploding sunset.
The ocean seemed calmer as strangers returned back towards their homes.
Some were afraid they would never see another sight so beautiful again.
Some just smiled for what they had won.

The living were spread out amongst the dead.
The breathing of their brains pulsated with the whining of their muscles and skin.
Within each one resided a human being.
Beyond the skeletal support rested a soul...unknown and unseen.

"How long has it been?"
-the passenger asked again...
The driver came back to the crowd clinging behind his seat.
Its been 20 minutes sir - he said.
And then he was dead.

The crowd gasped in unison.
A small child on the front seat began to sob.
The tears from his mothers eyes glistened on his forehead.
The bus went out of control and drifted off the highway, into a valley between the hills
-it just tumbled down the sides.

When it stopped. There was a rose petal buried under it. Several hundred years ago, a young boy had planted its seed. Today, the funeral had arrived to the flower's red feet.
Today, a thousand martyrs had suffered what one had expected to defeat.
Freedom was just around the corner, but blissfully ignorant.
The souls just wandered back to the shore, waiting for the sea to embrace them like before.
Just then the bell rang. It was time to stop again.
Another passenger got off, and the bus continued its course.
The sun set in the distance, shadowing everyone with its glow.
There were smiles in the crowd.
Another day off work from nine to five.