A Love Poem.

A voice lies underneath,
She says “I cannot be with you.”

I ask “have you looked?”

She is soft, brown hair hides her dark eyes,

Her perfume lies trapped in those brown curls,

That play around her long neck,

She recalls “I wanted to know peace”

I reply “You have learned patience”

“I may have learned vigil perhaps” she walks closer to me,

My head looks up “It had silence”

Her long thin fingers now point to the window “The night wasn’t silent”, she whispers,

“Was it your heart talking? Your ears had no one,” the house is silent, my
Lips have no strength left,

She kisses me, sweet, “a night some months back, I spent building a nest”,

“It lasts forever,” I live one more breath to tell her;

“ Perfection must be a pause then, my love” her eyes smile,

“Love has to be born, it has also a sunset, not a pause,” I switch off the lights,

“What I feel is real”, she moves away,

“Desires are if life is”, I move towards the window,

“Freedom then should be just a play”, she closes her eyes, I see her in the moon light,

“Shadows don’t play, the light does and it knows nothing of freedom or otherwise”, I smell the air,

“It hurts”,

“It has a threshold”,

“Beauty then should be timeless”,

“ Yes, it fills me, this room and all those who are witnessing us now”,

She switches on the lights, “ It is golden in the morning, only then”,

“Look, the pole star”, I call her to the window,

As she moves, she smiles, “the past of lovers are like those stars”,

“When lovers are, the past ceases”, I hold her,

“You and I have played for time that seems endless”,

“Yes, endless”, I kiss her

Wishes driven to wonder

Words drilled on paper

The  I remained  alone

The learning was

Written in rebirth

Of that which created a light

Where memories were  raised

In which a life become a life

The I could not be any

It had voice of none

The words  to it came in slow

They could make and build

To study and learn

For  days and for nights

One after another

Sustenance was the content

The content was the escalator to be built

To be integrated

The I identified it

Answered by a process

The process a devotion

To think and to choose what

And through it

The soul was then created.

The Good.

As
I exhaled in madness
I was with Me
Understanding how it caused A me in
happiness or sadness,
and how I stopped my own growth
if I would never let go
of my emotions and memories,
I could be stagnant of me alone,
But freedom to inhale existed too,
I had the power to choose
and pause,
So that I could understand the
need to be let go to see myself within, with
Imaginations all around
creating what is (joy) in somewhere
deep inside, in action all around,
a place where I enjoyed myself the most,
where I laughed so much
and of joy that I felt there,
that existed there for ME alone,
A hero that stood still playing,
desiring an activity thus, thinking.
That place now held my attention,
A ME smiling at ME
in a sense of action,
this was a seeing
right where I felt me before
I couldn't see me clearly then,
although in absolute center
may be because of agitation
and some anger towards me by me
attached to all that I felt for me
may be I was unable to forgive me
may be, till
I exhaled.
I took a deep breath
and touched it with my loving hands,
I continued to hold it in my arms
I could see the smile again
I could see a thank you a fresh,
a new and saw some moments
relaxing between a
ME
and ME
I was now so close to me
With each breath that I inhaled
An action for the soul, a beauty set free.

The mind seeking markets of the world,
In focus walking from them inside to outside,
Understanding markets belonged to nobody,
They themselves searching, rejecting all false,
Gradually resonating to a quality mind,
The self being aware of transient energy
Walks from markets to markets
On all days, all days then being
Working days, marketing days,
Both being vulnerable,
Both with a life force,
Somehow discovering it's existence.

a child walks,
it falls,
gets up,
walks again,
laughing every time it gets up,
after a fall
in what it has,
in what he can have,
i still have been doing that,
taking life in its entire indulgence,
in all my good, in all my values.

A Vaishnava Song.

Millions and millions of years
Of seeing you my beloved
And yet
My eyes remain hungry,
Evolution too has come to a stop,
I cannot posses you my beloved
For my eyes remain hungry for you,
I cannot gain you for
I cannot grow in partiality my beloved
I have no explanation,
My eyes remain hungry for you,
I served many a banks,
Many a fields,
Many a life,
But in you I know I won't have
Any boundaries my beloved,
My eyes remain hungry for you.

In my own Desire.

I need externals
In these outings I will
Do what I exist for
To manifest the act and the acting
To fulfill my metaphysics
That always existed in me
Even in my complete field.
Seeking is intoxication
Realization of activity
Balances the law
The law grants the joy
That It would be a loss
If one frees oneself from
The range of joy
In bondage, in joy, in activity
To the law that governs my freedom.

The Violent Spirit.

The masquerade was melting 
It was April, the sun was
Moving at it's highest angle,
It was a water fall
Suspended and jagged 
In some kind of
Performance arts.

The gravity was thawing 
The snow, that stayed away
From all that was for some
Time now, eternal,
Silence was breaking up,
It would never touch it's 
Environment with serenity anymore,
It would be violent,
Explosive, as if some god
Would be stripping it's 
Masquerade and making
It a lover of such potentiality
That in it's violence
It would
Shape the life on this earth.

More and more
It would transcend, in
Delight it would be
Within and with-out, and would not evade
Bonds, freedom would be in itself
In it's activity
In it's violence
The life in the midst of this fearlessness
The seed would sprout
And take a new form.

To realize freedom through violence
Is the beauty of all souls.

Dharma.

The content of 'I'
In contemplation with 'I'
Standing as 'I'
Holding itself in it's individuality
In it's foundation it builds itself
To own itself completely 

It has to be my sleep
My sacredness
My gain and the knowledge of my loss
It has an eagerness
And it can never be annihilated 
Try hard as one may,
Only may be if possible
It can be through a dialect alone
Nothing more

I can destroy ignorance
Through the truth of I
The self lights it's own fire
And can rid of itself of all
Clinging, remaining
An end in itself
The purpose then remaining
Outside the realm of becoming

Life Extraordinary.

An open door
Almost
Like an encyclopedia
More or much but
Learning things through leaving
And not taking any subject personally

Minds can be read
The history class in school
Were 
Like my mother
Like my father
Felt like they all came in
After me
I know there won't be ever any
Takers for this
Till I get restored to my
Normal state

There are notes taken
Placed all over inside me
Nobody's home though 
But I have been living off 
The organizer who took
All the notes, all the music

Oh, god
I may have to leave
It would have been cool if I 
Would have been your mentor
And made you learn the possibility
Of endless possibilities,
Not like you who has had always
One question to ask: 'so
What's troubling you?'
And my answer to you would always be
You You You

Listening to my thoughts might
Help tune in the seeing
That I was distracted
By the existence of hope
Then came a man
Singing -
'If it wasn't for hope
Your life would have been
ExtraOrdinary, yes
Extraordinary!'

Mostly Distracted.

The finite, how did it talk of
Infinite,
The discovery of truth fixated
On a head and objects inside
That caused misunderstanding
To the I,
Seeking to remove contradictions
Calling it's spiritual journey
In the physical finite 
Which does not ever by itself
Be aware of a here too.
What is, is not is but an object
Trying to travel to some construct
Called a non existent infinite, something or a nothing
Being empty inside
Empty outside. 
Searching? then look for a why.
Mind has to make use of the mind,
For a while it remains in it's own
Reality, mostly distracted,
Still remaining in the expression
Of life.

I have a habit
I stop when I get what I want
I can rest
The dramatic scenes then,
Before the habit kicks back again
The high comes back in.

I see myself in a habit
As a noise
As I am
Experiencing and identifying with it
Gradually becoming accustomed to it
Like going to bed to rest in a
Personal state
To wait for the noises to disappear.

Is a habit a sacrifice or
A trick
It can live only because of me
Everything I see is now only
My habits, on my outsides
In my insides
Floating like clouds
All being my construction.

Freedom Song.

Analogies of imaginations 
Help live in mathematics and
In a choice
Capable of discovering laws
Of polygamy,
Typically an independent mind
Belonging to the 'God-Gene' 
Knows by deterministic philosophy the right and wrong
Of chemistry and physics.

Deterministically I am free
With free will
I make choices
To choose what to refer too
Within my neural receptors.

Locked up in freedom
Like a defense ploy in action.

I Believe By The End Of Belief.

Nothing near about being near
Or about being far as being far,
Only in two possibilities if I do or not 
Encounter how thought splits and
Travels.

Experiences separating and creating experiencers only
To be converted to a belief,
To a real,
Creating also a waiting room
For all those needed that subjective creation of experiencer.

Refreshing are skeptics
Those that are rigorous with datas and philosophies,
Hallucinated are mindless pragmatist who indulge in
Typically creating psychological sciences.

If you have something profound,
How would you know it to be?
If through anyone else, than you
Need a brain surgery.

Anonymous assertions
Silence jesting
Were they complains or
Apples and oranges
In issues of living arrangements

Talk and do better
Feel what was there
A point of view though
May be I can share
How to see
When the how goes
To a parking routine
Fresh perspective and
One way opportunities

If god helps us understand
I could be a rabbi
And make rains out of tears

Would this be true?

If I registered darkness
I was alone
If could see the day light
I had a lot to do.

If nature could teach nature
I would always be a pattern
A pattern reveals life
Or predicts anomalies
That further formed patterns
If nature perfected nature
Would it discard it as
It would then be unique.

Shapes help name the stars too
Me too and all the rest
In mathematics I found Maya 
Interrelated in all my relationships
In golden spirals
That what I assumed
I could understand in numbers.

What would friendship be, be
If the friend would not be my
Other self

All insights that come from doing
That comes from a friend
It always grows from the ground up

If I need contemplation
To be happy in this life
Why should I not have a friend then, for
It would be a life of utility,
Pleasure and excellent friendship.