Reflections.

Images from mind,
Reflections from memory,
When time flows faster and
slower, as it wants,
I look for will there,
I find none there but
only reflections
in some pool.

I could keep looking,
go up and down,
keep sailing the thoughts,
yes thoughts,
these images,
these reflections,
these thoughts looking at thoughts.

A Step Forward.

A space on my wall,
A picture missing now,
I dare not look at
the space myself.

A small book
in the cupboard,
being tricked to shut
itself for ever.

My life is my whole
life,
It is whole and
requires no further clarity,
It's never a step back,
But a step forward,
So what if
the space on the wall
looks unbelievable and
the book,
ah!
the book has some more
work to do.

A stone flung,
Deep in to a pond,
Bounced four times,
Till it sunk,
Through some magic,
It was found again,
By a Shepherd,
Who knew to swim in
Dark and deep.

The doors were open
then to stone,
the doors to dream,
It could no longer sleep and
knew nothing of dark,
It was free to be free
or to bind,
As magic around it
was the silver light
inside and outside of
it's heart.

A Circle With Four Points.

I see a circle and
I mark four points,
I go from birth
to death,
call it east and west,
north and south,
I remain in the circle,
moving and guarding these
four points.

From one
point,
I draw a tangent,
See that going to
an infinity,
I think that This
is GOD,
I call upon it and
ask it
to witness the
points
and guard the
movements between the
points.

The Blue Print.

Mind like water
cannot be compressed,
now or before,
It can flow
and expand,
fit and form
now or before.

If I see my blue print,
now or before,
I see yours and that
tree's same,
now or before,
I see a seed,
and the movement to a tree,
back to the seed,
now or before.

If I go with the nature
of my mind,
I free flow,
like water on a mountain high,
flowing, breaking, then collecting
and then evaporating,
just like my blue print
now or before.

Integration.

I was made to observe,
how to fit my mind,
to what I was made to want.

If I did integrate,
what would it be for me,
for it would always be your want,
me calling it my love
of my heart.

I would still be sad,
And question the integration itself,
Entering what you would call,
the dark night of soul.

Hey!
are you telling me
if I don't fit in,
I'm non-existent.

Dimensions.

Moving in dimensions,
I see myself defining,
I also see a self,
And in that I realize a self
Participating in a continuum.

You tell me
that this is a mango tree,
If I move a dimension,
I don't know what I see,
Hence to remain with
what you say,
I stay in a
continuum and I too
like you then can
call that what you name as a mango tree.

If the shift happens,
I would have to define it
and name it,
that is I would want it to measure it,
something funny happens here,
the very second I touch this,
the dimension changes.

The experiments of mind,
known to mind alone,
may be or
may be not,
something does exist,
as we know not.

Always Been.

When I change,
I stay same,
Why do I then think of
not changing,
If I always want to be same.

When I look at WILL,
I look at a mind,
That which is WHAT a mirror shows me,
My body.

I feel young and
I change,
To remain same,
That is young,
I call it a miracle
this -- "always been changing."

SILENCE.

Silence feels a
lot like talking,
It can go on for
days and seem like love.

Love recognizes anxieties,
Also a flute song,
Some blooming beliefs,
A few things about myself,
May be few about my silences,
That silence runs
through my happy face.

You get in to it,
you can't get out of it,
AS if you have been robbed,
You search still for
A candle light in a dark room,
Wishing you hadn't been touched by
silence atall.

SHADOWS.

I'm false when I talk
of sin,
I falsify myself
when I look
down upon myself,
I'm a tree,
and I will not bear any fruits
of lie,
however hard may I try.

If I'm a man,
I cannot call myself ignorant,
If yet I ignore,
then only do I
chase dichotomy,
Desires through dichotomy is
what man teaches,
is what man learns,
I spit it
and walk away,
to the truth that is in me
and in you.

The Mind Bulb.

One good walk,
and you know you would give it
all up.

A present is a lucky charm,
it makes you talk about
a promise so sweet
you want to keep,
like a rocking chair,
agitating and yet relaxing.

Some story books besides my bed,
assassinating sleeps,
giving me names,
of animals and minds,
breads and love, sometimes they
ask me my name, I smile, so they call me an adventure,
these good cousins of mine.

Wheel Within A Wheel.

I wanted to be everywhere in the world,
And see becoming first hand,
Divisions do not impress me much,
I know about richness as in
material and spiritual being same,
Ruthlessly, selfishly, I know
I was taught to chase,
How could any school be other than
mine.

I see a wheel
and I know there is no way out,
I don't want to be anywhere now,
what for,
If I see one I see all,
It could only be a
wheel within a wheel.

Is it me then YOU?

The product born out of repetition,
A physical ME,
Lost in a psychological you,
Enjoying the demands,
Justified by conditioning
of what exists.

Somebody told me that
And that tells somebody that
We suffer,
Feelings of culture,
An external vulture,
At a pinnacle of maturity,
In
A raging war inside,
Fought on intellectual level,
Seriously looking,
Searching,
asking questions of hunger.

Divisions solving problems,
Science looking hep,
And scientist politicians,
Wait, Wait, Wait,
Can I do something,
May be a war,
Or some thinking,
Essentially solving
problems of divisions
through man's seeking.

Is it me then YOU?