Mutation.

One of billions of nerves
Understand finally
How light reaches through
The curtains into the room
And how the light captured
Is reflected for that nerve
To stimulate and call it
Movement of life.

I assume, in the matrix,
Of my billions of nerves,
That struggle to
Comprehend the
Monarch butterfly,
Of how one day,
A caterpillar labors to mutate
To become a butterfly, and
Then how it would
Travel miles and miles
And miles, and winters,
And summers.

To My Other.

Water went up the
Thin air
Dissolved all that floated
In to sun,
Clouds would be
Now full of tears,
And spirits of dreams,
Of little and large life,
Nothing here ended,
Nothing here began,
This on earth,
Action never ceases.

I can't see much,
I can feel a lot,
Sensitive to life,
I enter a read,
A movie,
And an actor,
And a Shakespeare,
All about is Live,
Feeling ever so alive,
Try sitting down,
Thinking nothing's happening,
Rather dully, a clock
Starts ticking and
Questions come to us,
Communicating how we
Feel, this or otherwise,
It's not easy to have
Your ass kicked,
This is exactly what happens,
When you sit doing nothing,
You invite boredom, and
You age.

Soul Eyes.

Soul. and the beauty of it,
And that from a mind,
Of a love, that can tear
The entire universe apart,
After only it has created,
In love and it's imagination,
Can't and shouldn't be,
Spoken off, in clear light,
The light has to let be,
For love to capture it
And reflect it.

Between a joke and
Nonsense, I would choose
the latter.

'I can read the eyes, and
You are in love with me'
She told me once,
I understood that,
Soul could be read about
But never spoken off,
The music then plays on,
And I for one am at home,
In love.

The Human Heart.

Sun comes up,
I pick a song on
my lips,
Eyes refuse to shut down,
(Although work never had
any interruption,)
The play could never be contained,
It has to wait for the day,
And now it was ready to enjoy creation,
Coffee added to the madness,
The beans having known their
Purpose of existence,
Added to my thirst,
For a romance,
And to what I could offer,
Without a road map,
But a purpose, to
Ease the day off to its night.

Not Just My Letters.

Letters, read, written,
Many now,
Lost most of them,
Some lying still in my
Mailbox, drawers, mind,
Somehow they don't
Belong to time.
They time travel,
I don't know, but
I guess they do.

Letters sometimes
Wait an entire lifetime, and
They also are only connection to
Future too,
They talk about rains and
Farms, about being single,
And walks down the memory lanes,
Music in them lay trapped,
And so does love.

Writing one is not an easy job,
If in courtship - very difficult,
In love - an indulgence,
To a loved one it generates tears,
Every breath while reading
Would tear isolation apart.

Then there are days when
They bring isolation,
Creating ownership to
One's life,
That we could do more,
That we can make it work,
About vision, and you and me.

Letters think, they play games,
I have some kisses trapped in some,
How important they are for me,
And me for them,
Trust me, I love to read one,
Write one, romance some,
And so little a time to do
So much more,
About what I have in
My mind.

Act One.

She disappeared!
One day just like that,
Problems were long gone,
Thoughts of money had
Ceased,
There was art and
Comfort all around,
Then why,
And where, did she
Walk of to,
Did she drop of life?
No, I had to meet her,
To ask her one last
Question, Why?

Circumstances arrive,
So does time,
Few years later,
She was seen in a play,
I was in the audience,
A play I wasn't going too,
Somehow my wife dragged me to,
It wasn't a play play,
But an experimental theater,
So she was there,
And In movements and
There were musical instruments
Playing, and she like a
Little child in a room,
With other children playing.

I think she saw me,
There was a pause,
Uncertain pause,
Which according to me
Did not fit in the play,
The entire memory of
Working years spent
With her came alive,
Like a volcano it erupted,
All like a beautiful song
It flowed.

Something about life,
Of living, and a ceremony,
And a dance, through an
Experiment of love,
There is simplicity in
naming, why do we
Call soup Soup?
What I felt like when
I sipped it?
That is where we
Know how we are connected,
Why we are and
Why we celebrate,
And dominate,
I find words,
I need them,
A library is the best place
To look for them,
But I could never knew,
That I could see her
Again in a play,
Like a child,
Teaching me again,
Where she had left,
When she disappeared.

The Song Of Physics.

From the soil

The seed tried to love

The sunshine

The sunshine from

So far far away

Knew about it

It knew that the seed

Held a promise of a tree

A tree that would make

The sun look

Beautiful to me,

To you, from it’s

Branches and green leaves,

All born from love of seed,

Love of sun,

And the seasons,

That would make me/you

 Sit and observe

The entire forest,

In a romantic life.

When I measure my thoughts I know for sure their position, when I don't measure, I don't know where they are or what part of space. They exists in potentiality though. All in my imaginations and metaphorical reality.

In Me.

I haven’t worn my prayer
For a long period now,
Responsibilities are felt deep
When I escape.

Traditions speak about values,
Their keepers
Guard them with armies
Of soldiers and Pontiffs,
I had a teacher too,
I had to feel, he said, the knowledge is
To discover limitations, mine,
He was seeking too,
What’s good and what’s it to value tradition?
That is the mind
In the pressure of peer.

Then it's possible,to feel free
In environment that is not mine,
In some other country, other
Than mine, till you start,
Mixing with your kind
There too.

Let me talk in general now,
Talk about food and how to cook,
Emotions run into them too,
I love what I cook or
Am not and want to improve
Upon it.

When a child, I
Could express, to an age freely, I
Belonged to a family with
Almost all adults engaged in
Ordinary chores, working hard,
Now I travel, I move,
I see people, and how to them
Their culture is very important to them,
They carry the responsibility,
I understand the role of the teacher thus,
The knowledge in books,
In words
And how they become a responsibility to me,
Through who I am,
And a teacher,
Although mine never replied
Anything, nothing,
So I also understood that
For me only,
I have an identity, mine,
And so for anyone and all.

For me hence I have to be told
I live or not live by others,
Who have to be told
To live, this really confuses us all.

I have certain skills,
I have abilities,
They change alone,
I have dreams,
Dreams are different now,
Since my wife has a
Child in her womb,
Dreams for once are
Alive, like the child
In the womb,
Not a myth, or some fantasy,
Neither do I believe in
Re-birth, but dreams,
That they are living, like me, alive,
To what I know of me,
And what people know of me,
But these dreams are unconditioned, unlike me,
Like my expressions, when I was
Three or four, real,
I wonder how my father felt,
My relationship with him
Has been a plateau,
Can’t say anything about him,
I guess I even don’t know him,
But I am afraid of
His dying, I take that fear seriously,
To have us around, his children,
I know was very important to him,
As was his owning a home,
And live a particular lifestyle,
I, we lived his style,
Like a surprise to him
One day it came, I decided,
To live life my way,
That is the only time in life,
I think we are,
he was genuinely surprised,
He was.

We understood, he and I,
The passage of time,
The solutions existed in
Channels of time,
So did problems,
And our learning,
And joys, and freedom,
And my teacher too,
Who never taught me anything,
Only that there was nothing
To change in actions, only to see
How the mind reacts to your awareness,
With the understanding of
Given and discovered knowledge, so
Even while cooking, bathing,
Tying shoe laces,
How I make things come to life,
How they make me come alive,
Learning of attachments and movements,
And I don't have to go anywhere,
To be open to possibilities.

A baby will be born,
Thinking will change,
Till up to end of my time,
Hence a student for life,
In Me.