A Love Story

Open up a box
Leaf through the diaries
Weep if you want
Laugh if you can

My first of everything
In the scents of my pages
Breezes bring me to a particular.....
A sweet smile
That would not let me worry for
anything around

I laugh
for the idiot I was
I smile
for the beauty she was

If only she had looked at me

The Little Child's Rainbow

I stood by the trees
Still in the winds
A calm water and some
Whistling leaves

Come sit by me
There is a book by you
In it let us
Read chapters of you
Of how you looked
Through your windows

I have a story for you too
About a rainbow over the black clouds
And how it promised
A little child
The heaven that waited
Above those dark clouds

What is cosmic about self
Dependence on authority is

If death cannot be experienced by me
Singing I exist is a joke

Lets explore the being of void
Or talk of reflection from our memory
How do I recognise and bring in me a hunger

Separate me from me
I know a lot about me
That is not wanted by me
And all that is wanted by me

A self in solitary confinement
From the moment it separated itself
from consciousness and lost itself in
Self consciousness

Finding a concept of self objectively
has to be equal for all to sustain
(only equal?)
Yes only equal and that is how all form and
function came in to being

Objectively cells are distributed in a body
Inter personally
Not so with living beings who are
distributed culturally

I am

I am not into sociology
Not into neurology
Never in observation
Neither below nor above
Consciousness

No levels
Or multilevel
Patterns describing me in flow of time is an
Illusion

Regular movements of memory
Happening all the time
Not from a core
Neither from an autobiography

It is
Something to be known
From that is already
Known

EMPTY

Only a painter knows
Knows in nature
That all things are
By their nature
EMPTY

The painter's canvass holds
The potential to carry
It's madness
It's story
The interrelationship between it
And the Canvass
The Empty canvass

It's self then being
The creator of it's self
Not about truth
Not about false
All about colors that fill that
EMPTY

轻松进入我的生活。

I held myself in vibration
In Life
In feeling
All in the how

Was it vague
Was I at some distance

Awareness came
About some next step
Living that moment in
How

No, No, No,

We always are
We are in abundance
And I hold myself in this vibration

As it should be
It is

Things we talk about are
interrelated
Sourcing the consciousness
through breathing

As it should be
It is

Lets talk about a thought
a form that is you
A glorious state of joy
To who you are

As it should be
It is

The "I"ness in you is not creative
it is addictive
You always would be
as you learn this allowing the process

As it should be
It is

Tap in to you
And flow
With ease and light

As it should be
It is

Open questions hidden well
I and you in parallel thoughts
Primary you and me in seeing
Stood there when the sun rose
And never moved till it set

Existence applies to entirety
To everything inside of me
The elements of my emotions
Creative as well as destructive

Contradictions have causes and
That reality is never hidden
Understanding that brings in energy
I in this energy
Connected to you

Once upon a time,
A very long time ago,
There was a writer in love with life,
He only loved to talk about life and
Listen to it.

He travelled a lot,
And understood the importance to find a good place to rest.

Once on one such place,
A resting place,
A very long way from home,
An unspeakable happened,
Without saying a word,
All he could hear was the flames burning,
And his heart beating.

First he lost time,
Then life asked,
"Would you want to hear your fortune?"
"No" he said
"My seduction fell short."
"For a writer like me, yes."
"Had I been a slave of satan?"
"I would have been of nobler birth then."

He paused for a very long time wondering,
Was it all written that I would carry my
Love all along

I adopt
To my selective

Imaginations are there
And we may have been built for them too

Knowledge is a product of evolution
And not the brain as
The patterns there are never same
They can't be even called a pattern
What happens is
Is very dynamic and unstable

How am I connected to you as
The movements are intense

Is the self in the cell or
Outside of it because
Neurons adopt to realities they find themselves in

I can learn
So can you
How through a two dimensional objective knowledge
We perceive our world
Our selective world

Purpose decides interpretation

Of reality and of emotions



Fit myself somewhere

Is not an easy task



Working assumptions

Are for only the goals that I pursue



How important is experience

Framed through

Objective elaboration alone



Thoughts being born thus

Which may not find any neural networking

Alters the nature of reality



It is not something beyond

Externally we are very advanced

And the purpose is my ease of my mind

Which becomes the purpose of my reality

Which is never beyond



What is me

Is what I explore

And then the

Purpose decides interpretation

Of reality and of emotions


The highest standpoint is
Learning the mind

Conditioned waking
Realizing you and me

Perceptions of then
My feelings
And emotions arising
Conditioning the dreaming

You see
Knowledge
In continuity
An intellectual conditioning
Filling in and pouring out of
Joy

I the source of me
In wakeful dreaming and intellectual state
You know the inhabitants
In union with it

IS THIS

In what is
To be

The knowledge that cannot accept
Now
In what is
To be

I am aware and can that help
Now
In what is
To be

Rare questions coming from text books
Now
In what is
To be

Identification of stickiness
Now
In what is
To be


A mind speaks and exposes
Now
In what is
To be


What knows the mind
Now
In what is
To be


Describe me intellectually
Now
In what is
To be


Consciousness establishes my position
Now
In what is
To be


What could never be wiped away then or
Now
In what is
To be


All my years, everything and all elements
Now
In what is
To be


It's my language in my dream
Now
In what is
To be

An emerald with bright colors
And I have to choose just
One color at a time

If I wait
I waste my time
That is being dead

I cannot pretend I'm ok
Cannot fall in the trap
Of positive/ negative thinking structure

One color at a time
Regardless of how it will work out
Life is everything
And I'm aware of it

Life is
And it's fun

Just like an emerald
With bright colors

If I say I'm angry
Then it can never be chemical

Whatever I do
Matters

This is it
Nothing to know more than this

Even if you call it miserable
Things if they are
They are to be

The Workings

If I label this
PAIN
It cannot be healed

If I negate everything
That everything
Cannot be wiped out

Between me and life
This 'US'
Is ultimately shattered

How drunk am I
I'm fine
Would I find someone new

A pillow case
Sailing in time
Feels so me

Save me
Are you good at that?

I am ok
Been ok for some months now

Happy too
Sensitive, yes that too

I am a beautiful person
Call me miserable

I can't hear you though
Lets talk about it

I think
I know
I see
The flames
Sometimes I laugh
It is so me

Just to see when