To feel or to fear, that is the question
To heal the mind with every beating heart
Or to kneel before the mind which walks on
the path of infinite miles for unheard possibilities
To climb high or to fall deep
In miles of dark space
hoping for a calm lake
as clean as cold air;
Its art, feels the known air
ah that's the rub,
centred, so calming, you hold your breathing
your muscles, your thoughts, your moments, your cage, your space, you hold
To remember, to reminisce whenever you can
Without the true real production of this dramatic union
this unfortunate artistic action comedy
on a moving stage with ever-growing thrust
through fire within and without us
For.. 3.. to.. 1
Barging lives calling space
no faces, still traces of myself already floating as much as anyone's
the high places in this water drunk mirror
standing on ahead
hands still down but not so heavy
gently, against gravity merely for one's self
meeting gravity in wider space:wiser
the maze, confused between
Does she feel or does she believe?
Is it rhyme or reason?
takes or opinions?
a break? or now broke at last?
At this stage our understanding,
our unfair actions over fair gentle comedy
the portrait of stretched lips,
the reach of ones heart,
the landscape of breathing eyes,
the vision of ancient entities,
such a traveller merging himself with worlds of all & world of ones
None but it's own,
is pairing with world's despair
Know, it's not gentle, it's not fair
the act of righteousness has pockets for both good and bad
but the depth of the body it is supposed to hold is sewn, just as love
not any form of love but just love
it's that body requiring warmth
it's that love that is its warmth
it's a thread that is its pain and peace
the pocket of this wisdom would have to shortlist his desires in this world
learnt while keeping an open eye and closed while guiding the path
An optimism is with which this glass is made and our eyes, our wants, our efforts, our confidence & self belief is keeping the mirror made of water
half-empty always