Deafening tranquility

Hush.

Do not speak to me in this lone moment of observation of deafening tranquility. It has been a long journey for me to reach this point. This point that will come and go, and not be noticed by anyone but me.

For this is the moment when everything is still. For an instant. And in this instant the decision that changes the world is taken. Because it could have gone another way. On another path. A path that we can only think and speculate about but will never get to see. What is done is done.



I am right here. Like I have been. Observing this din merge into harmony. Of everything seeming that it was supposed to be exactly this way. When it was not. It was not.

In another world, in another parallel universe this moment went the other way. On another path. On the path that we can only think and speculate about and will never get to see. But I can see it now. I can notice this point in time, which no one else can.

I can be in two places at the same time. It is in this moment of stillness that I travel from one universe to the other, to observe the paths fork and diverge into different directions. Into different lands. Into different worlds. I can see both of them at the same time, but only to a point. After which, I must choose. I must choose whether I am going to get carried away by seeing what could have been or float back to what is.

Hush. Let me decide.

Being with her

She whispers to me
Ever so softly
Her tinkling
Adding music
To the wind



She sways towards me
Ever so boldly
Her chimes
A rhapsody
To the night



She flutters away from me
Ever so playfully
Her pealing
Adding festivity
To the moment



She rises over me
Ever so quietly
Her silence
A testament
To her exquisiteness

Shine

I am the light
I am the one

Can you see my shadow
In your shadow
Can you see what I see
Through my blindness

The diamond in a teardrop
The sparkle in her eyes
The flare behind moment
The fire in his soul

The colour
In black and white

A momentary lapse of reason

The smell of the crumpled paper came first. Then the sound. But only moments later. By then, my consciousness had been invaded. A mosquito made its way to my bare arm. My unforgiving palm came down on it. It died and was reborn a white hair. The white hair stood out, shining. Its reflection in the mirror was blinding. The entire room lit up and all you could see was the light. A doorway opened to darkness. I ran towards it and slipped in just as it was closing. The darkness melted into a river. I was carried by it as it gushed through the mountains. I landed in a lake in the middle of a volcano. Or what used to be a volcano. All the fishes were red, and hot. They glowed like embers of coal. There was a small fire by the river. The flames told me stories of the previous births of the offerings that roasted on it. As we bit into each of our offerings, we were transported into their future lives. We were friends in that life. All of us. Except for one. The one who had pretended to eat, but did not chew. He was an enemy in this life. He hid behind the ever changing forest. The trees turned to stone while he slept. He lay frozen in one of those stones. That way we could never get to him. There was no other way. We cut down the trees. The whole forest. For every tree we cut, another three grew. We were exhausted. We went back to the village and got drunk. This time the trees did not turn into stone. But the leaves vanished. Into thin air. They never came back. But he was gone. We thought that was the end. But it was not. It was only the beginning. We drifted. Each to his own. As I wandered many lands and created many stories for myself, I came upon a boy. He was blind in one eye. He led me to the wooden house. He called it the house of dreams. I went in through the back door. There was a long corridor with doors on both sides. The light was blue and green. It looked dangerous. At the end of the corridor there was a fat lady. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of her. She pushed me into a room. It opened up to the snow capped mountains. I tried to go back but there was a wall instead of a door. It was very cold. I started freezing. So I started running. As I ran I could feel the snow melting around me. But it was not melting. It was freezing. Into sheets of ice. I jumped onto one that was passing me by. And landed up in your room. Right behind you. Looking at you looking at the computer and reading this story. You wondered if I was really there. You looked back.

Piercing through

Barbed wire
A broken relationship
Thorns pricking
Blemished shortcomings
Glimmering desires
Piercing through
And through

Glory

I am in this country again.

This dream among a million dreams. This day among a thousand and one nights. This feeling among all these emotions. This poem among story tellers.

I meet her again.

This time among the overgrown weeds coated with morning dew. Spider webs hidden among flowers. Nectar dripping off thorns. The cracked and crumbling earth bearing the burden of my every movement. The choreographed birds appearing out of nowhere and disappearing into nothingness. The golden reflection of dawn in a puddle of water.

She greets me as if we were meeting for the first time.

Very soon, you reach the edge. It is not as far as you think it is. Often, it is just round the bend. And then, here you are. At the precipice. And nothing in front of you but a free fall. All the way down. All the way back. All the way.

It’s probably for the best anyway.

Genesis, again

It starts now

A moment ago
We were here

A moment later
They were gone
Again

Two perspectives
Coming together
In a new
Light

The dawn
Whispering through
Towards us
And our
Dreams

The genesis
Of a moment
Born untaught
And captured
For eternity
And a second

And so it is

The morning light was about to stream through the swaying branches.

As she closed her eyes, she remembered the same wind fluttering about her hair and stroking her face. The gentle moments of those mornings came back to her. The light softly playing on her eyes, till they got too harsh. The harshness bringing back to her how everything was not always what it seemed at first.

The morning mist was about to start clearing away for everyday life to take over.

As she opened her eyes, she felt the biting wind ruffling her hair and nipping at her face. The icy moments of those mornings came back to her. The light now clearing away the mist, till the ugliness showed. The ugliness bringing back to her how there were always two sides to everything.

The morning moments were about to become history once again.

As she turned around, the wind was flowing and moving to her movements. This was the moment and the morning was here. The light flooded her world, till everything was familiar. The familiarity was the same but the feeling was different.

The morning was here now. To stay.

Recline

As the music dissolved into the muffled lights, I lay back. The curtain fluttered, creating psychedelic patterns against the yellow glow.



I was back again. Same place, same position. Things repeat themselves. But this wasn’t a déjà vu. It was a conscious choice. Sometimes, we want things to repeat themselves. To relive old memories. To taste a moment of the past again.