Thoughts Like Shadows

Thoughts Like Shadows

An empty darkness spreads over the realm
of my scattered thoughts that have gone astray
like the shadow cast by a setting sun
on the ground at the end of a bright day.

Shadows of the foliage and yonder hill,
receding from the sun and her warm light,
keep getting longer, forever until
even the plains too are shrouded by the night.

But a darkness all around lets us see
the wonders above, hidden by the sun –
the whole universe and her history
back to the moment her tale had begun.

So on behalf of my scattered thoughts, I
belligerently bid the sun goodbye!


We Are, Both!

We Are, Both!

No,
please
do not shake your head

in kindled vehemence
we are not angels,
neither God!

As human beings with consciousness,
latent at birth and later
buried miles under
the mounds
of stories,
we are
both
good
and evil,
enlightened
and ignorant.
Our thoughts can be
both vicious and virtuous.
The contrast lies in our acceptance!

If knowledge does not admit her ignorance,
if virtues do not confess her evil thoughts,
and if light never meets the darkness
on the other side, the ignorance
overflows and the evil inside
in silence grows,
brought up by
our reluctance
to wake up and
open our eyes.
And evil, overgrown, lurks
in our subconscious minds,
as we live our conscious life
without a shred of conscience.
With only our virtues thoroughly
and consciously emphasized, the evil
permeates our thoughts and feelings about
all others, everyone, except the face we see
introspecting, or in an ordinary mirror on the wall!


Beauty, Amplified!

Beauty, Amplified!

“Where is she?”, a voice wailed inside my head.
“There she is!”, another, moments later, replied
in ecstasy and my pupils dilated
at her sight, haloed by the rainbow colored lights.

 

Indeed, she is far prettier than our prettiest dreams,
more beautiful than pure beauty can ever be,
for her other half, forever dark and unseen,
turns beauty to a feeling, mere eyes fail to see.

 

A feeling, reverberating across
our synapses, remaining lodged within
a few neural paths, waiting for a stimulus,
or a set of stimuli – sharp, blunt, serrating,
is better than a mere sight, quicker too
on the release of all the rest with Dopamine!

 

And beauty, when all pure and absolute
like that when with impurity she overflows,
is often only half as beautiful
as when she is in harmony with her darkness,
like knowledge that knows the depth of her ignorance…
Don’t you see, the most beautiful time of the day
is when darkness unites with the shimmering light,
once at dawn and once at the dying hour of the sun?


 

The Illusion of Knowing

The Illusion of Knowing

Who can guarantee, we are not blind?
All the stars that are dying now, if they are
a billion light years away, their demise
we’d know after a billion years!
Till then, astronomers would map the light
as forlorn poets across the world would pledge
their love with poems, penned through the night!

    

And still you’d say, we are not blind!
Neither deaf, nor numb till we feel or hear
the lights from the act or sounds from the scene!
Still you’d insist that we can know,
despite our existence in a superior dream!

     

Last night’s sweet residue of a tender happiness
though palpably spread across the length of my skin,
with my long history of waking up to find,
the joyful surrender was only a mere dream,
I hope this is not one of those times! If it is,
let me sleep as I don’t want to wake up again!

.


 

Of Temptations and Silence

Of Temptations and Silence

Is it sleep beckoning me?
Am I losing consciousness?
Is that a guitar wailing
in the minor scale of D?
In my sleep I’m never free
from the haunting of her face,
perhaps losing it will give me some respite!

 

Perhaps darkness is my destiny,
for whenever I have found myself a light,
no matter how faint the glimmer is
or how far, the world would always overwhelm
the sparks of a dizzy flame
flying from my fancy thoughts and wild dreams!

 

Though the night is vexed too, now I know –
thou shalt talk no more to me!
Tough luck I have in this life,
O Fair Daughter of the world, perhaps
the next one will be a little less cumbersome…
Until then, O teary eyes,
break my heart but I must hold my tongue!

.


Image: The Temptation of St. Anthony by Salvador Dali