In the harbour of the stream

She sat by the trickling stream
and dreamt of the sea
of the water
the breeze
the scent
the sound

So real it was
she believed the stream
was the sea

In the window of her dream
she saw it all
the vast expansive never ending blue
the dancing little waves
where her being touched the sea
the soft mushy sand
beneath the soles of her feet

Sitting beside the trickling stream
she was at the sea

So lost she was in the sights and the sounds
of the dream
she forgot the tiny little ant
a little to big for its size
that moved a bit too fast
only to plant a little kiss
on the soles of her feet
that sat bare on the dried leaves

Ouch! she screamed
realised where she was
Cursed the little big ant
And never dreamt of the sea.

The Run

For the last 100 days or so all I was waiting was for this week.

Like a runner preparing for a marathon, I trained.

Pushed myself over and beyond knowing that this is my test of faith and love.

I endured. And smiled.

Despite a million and half worries, despite stress to the point where I could not sleep.

I had hope.

That kept me going on.

That pushed me each time, I was tired and wanting to break free from the the tedium.

I had longing.

Longing.

Through all my troubles, just the thought that, a little more and I will be reunited with my life.

I was tired and hurt and angry. And cursed the road, the people, the weather, the world for doing this to me and pushed myself even harder and longer for letting the world do it to me.

Give up, I did not, I pushed and nudged and prodded, my being, my soul to run harder and reach the finish line to see life and love. And just live and die in the same moment.

(With the gift of hindsight, which is like the angle of parallax, I tilt to assume that image at the end of the finish might as well be a mirage.)

Now, as clock ticks and seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, I want to stand in the middle of the two hands of the clock and stop it. Stop time.

Cause now I have no hope, no longing, no desire. No strength to see what lies ahead. Let alone face it.

All I have is this vague sense of weird hollowness, as though some one scooped out a major chunk of life out of me and I still stand, seemingly full.

The Lost Sock Syndrome

Socks exists in pairs.
Some times one is lost.

We were socks.
A pair.
Same colour.
Same size.
Same feel.
We could be worn interchangeably.
Left for the right.
Right for the left.

We lived in the same drawer.
Close.

Then one day, one sock was moved to another drawer.
It became the lost sock.
That was looked for some time.
Then forgotten.

New socks were moved in the lost sock's old drawer.
The un- lost sock got new friends.
They were of a different colour.
Different make.
But, the un-lost sock was happy.
The un-lost sock went places.
Happy places.
Some times, he did think of the happy times with the lost sock.
But, that was some times.


The lost sock, remains forgotten in a drawer.
That is seldom opened.
With dwindling, hope that before the decay sets in,
the drawer is opened
and sock finds the other sock.
To be a pair again.

The Unsung song

We hear those notes
that are sung out loud

The music of the soul
is strong and forever mute
it resonates in us
by the time it reaches us
the vibrations die

Some times they reach us
and then we feel strange
we don't know what it is
we get scared

If we shed the nameless fear
we harbour
we may begin a love affair
that would never end!

The R&R

It's said and believed by a few that, one's ability to Reason is a measure of one's intelligence. It's also said, believed and proved by a few that Reasoning is the ability with which one analyses an entity or an object and it's relationship in the system with other entities.

If this is taken to be the premise, then a person who has maintained all his relationships well has a decent level of reasoning. And which would mean, that he is intelligent.
I know personally, many such "intelligent" people. I believe more than intelligent, they are manipulative. They are untrue, to themselves, to the world and to the friends they claim they have.
Some of the people who walk the planet, prefer solitude. Does that mean that he is not intelligent?

The silent voices that scream in my head.

Where is it that I start and others end?
Where is it that others end and I start?
Who decides?
Life?
Times?
Circumstances?
I believe it's me. I decide. I control. I live. I hurt.

Why do we build walls to protect our core?
When we let some in, why does it always hurt?
Why can't we phrase the most important in words?
Why do people encroach each other's space?
Since, when does the other, the outside become more significant than the inside?
I think I still live in the simple world, where what matters is my intent, my will, my strength.

All that I hear from every one around and beyond is about the others. Why?
I am the source and I am the sink.
If I don't exist the world won't for me.
Why can't any one see the simple truth?
I can't make any sense out of any one. It's like I live in world where I know not a soul and not a soul knows me.

It's I who weaves my abstract thoughts in actions. Actions propelled from my core. Not from some one else's core.
I eat the food. I digest it. I shit it. Not any one else.
Why is it so difficult to understand to realise that if you think you exist. If there is not iota of I in you. There's nothing in you.

Where ever I see. All I see is people driving their insides to meet the outsides. Squeezing, tweezing, bruising to please, to appease, to fit in the so called "outside".
Why?

I believe life is simple. Simple and we complicate it when we forget us and remember others. When we give other's more priority over us. I never do any thing for any one else. I live for myself. I am not ashamed of it.
I do things that please me. It gives me happiness to see my parents happy. I make them happy to make me happy. I don't squeeze me to make them happy. If I do that I can't last long. There's only a limit to which I can squeeze. Only a time till when I will juice then I will dry. I will burn out. And then drained and burned I will curse, I will lash out, I will depress myself and others.

Is it so difficult to see?