Never spoken, ever since.

"The bridge is now burnt.

There is no way out from here. To there.

Or there is and I am stubborn to not see it. Seeing it could be burning the ashes, and nothing rises again from the ashes. The dead stay dead, or just look ahead. I can't believe anyone who tells me otherwise. 

Then maybe I am not even here, I am there but I have a bubble all around me. And I am unlikely to break it now till I start choking on my own airs. 

Or maybe its not even that anymore. I choked long time ago. And I remember hitting out to burst this film of air, invisible, all around knowing there is no barrier here anymore. And you are right by my side. Choking on your own air and fighting your own invisible demons. 

We are here, there is nowhere else to go, no matter where we go. There are no bridges to burn, just a thin line of reasoning we offer ourselves in respite when we watch the ashes on ground, just below those feet. The feet are empty, but can't feel a thing. But maybe the cushion of ashes is comforting. 

Have we heard the trumpets of war calling us? It would be a pity to drown a dagger and bleed. Bleed without a cause. Wars are never with people, wars are meant to be personal, destroying the demons that haunt the possessed streets. The streets where its a shame to walk clothed. But that is what the world has now come to be, a shameful cloak. Where is the uninhibited glory of sunlight?

I have given you years of my prime. Every minute of it. Hoping you would take a minute of your own to fit my shoes. But you were waiting for someone to bring you a shoe that is yours. Like it happens when one starts dreaming of love. A lie spoken like a wafting thought, tender through air, uncorrupted. An emotion struck right is not really a melody, for with you by my side I felt, but not emotion.

I tried everything I could. Maybe, I could be friends with your own, maybe I could let myself bleed a little more. Just too many maybes. I hungered to find a space where you could see me. Know the thoughts I think, taste the wines that I drink. Where I could tell myself, this is shared. This is sacred. But you just lost me in words. But what else could I share?

Shared, It was not to be. You had three words for me: "I am angry". "I" happened to be the fourth word. Just outside every sentence you spoke. The word you never spoke to. The word you desired to ground to dust, like those ashes you hungered to feel. Just beneath your feet. Or was it mine? Me? 

Is it heart breaking? You tell me. But I have weathered it all. And now there is very little to even crumble. I will just have to hold myself together till dawn. And I see the crimson skies.

I have failed the night. I acknowledge.

But we will always be unforgiving. Of each others deeds. Unloving when the other pleads. Or maybe its not even that anymore. The bridge is now burnt and one knows there is something wrong with the world one has constructed when he has to span distances to find his feet. 

Then there is the dirty hope. Dawn is when I wake up. As much as I know the answer, I would still want to ask. It's a little luxury that a dream offers when in an instant you know you are not bound to it's rules. Will you be by my side when I do?" 

-----------------------------------------    o   -----------------------------------------        

I put down my last letter to her. I had buried it too long, and now I see the utter meaninglessness of it all. Maybe its time to seal it once and for all. This creek. With a kiss. 

Kaia, Kaia, spring is coming. Its a secret never spoken, ever since you left. 

...... and then the realization struck me like a ton of bricks that - ' I have never had anything to say to anybody.' Except: To the kitchen - I'm hungry. To the bed - I'm hungry. To the machines - I'm hungry. To the path- I'm hungry. To life - I'm hungry. 

Hello there. I am so glad that people tweet. It is not easy you see. To follow is to believe that energy flows. If you want motivation and be excited and get More out of life learn to coach. It is your key to success. Build a website. Teach, learn and earn. Fit yourself in the value system. Just be there, you would be there. Be a rock star. Lead your self. Attract your self first to your own self.

Awesome autosuggestions filled up the entire vessel. There were open topics, build up libraries without an index, reproducing anything recorded from whenever. There was a pencil and paper and a sound player all in a chip in the vessel. Now most of them were classified in true or false and the false was never discarded. The autosuggestions were addictive. It was made to understand to bring on health of mind and body. It helped focusing. Motivation must have been a problem for most of the suggestions were designed to tackle the lack of it. The most important suggestions hence were played again and again. I was in hypnotic state. I was being auto suggested, my consciousness was what the commands that were controlled by the hard drive. The auto suggestions were firmly corrupted. I now needed to destroy this reinforcement. I needed a virus to destroy the entire data. I would come back again. Why not me? I can. I believe it. I accept it. I am and will be and I let go in exception to all rules.  (wait a minute,shhh, are these new auto suggestions replacing the old ones, damn!!)

To me in nature and me in wood.A thought in time and the hazy walk.Hearing a thoughtless tick.A sense that refused to sense and the spirit still still.

The eyes shut tight. The head moving in hard lines. Summers and winters and all in between the sky and earth. Noise noticed in empty rooms.

All in all, in heads the heads lie. Breathe some, sleep some, fight some, bonded some and free some. In seasons the seasons lie. Awake remain all. All think of sleep.

...... and then one day

I watched me watching me
And it was concentrated,
I was not watching me
I  was watching a mind 
And that was what
I was calling it me,
Then a further observation
Of an I observing a me,
It then stopped, it couldn't 
Further multiply,
I was conscious of an 
Observation being observed
That was being called me.

In promise and yet the walk slept,
I thought I had room for
Plenty of it,
All kinds of things were supposed
To be experienced
In that promise, in time to come
Writing stories would happen and
Then that building would shape up
Wealth that would help
Growing up in time to come,
But the walk was made waiting.

The walk was the well,
With gallons and gallons of water,
The depth surprising the water too,
The well could hold the entire history,
and answers to all futures, and
The promise was like
A deep breath that always made us Jump a little high.

then one day.....

Syncing Now.

To think I have to sync
I know, I know,
It sounds ridiculous,
But everyone has to do,
If one has to think.

Imagine that in a dream
How easy it is to be flexible
You can resemble anything anybody,
It is very romantic!
You can like all and yet be on
The streets
Throwing stones on all capitalists,
Taking all of them down and
Making sense of all garbage around.

But outside of a dream
I have been taught it is a reality,
Its life,
And its okay to be surprised
And call your life all screwed up,
And you have to think to
Be not to be called a paranoid.

Vedic generation taught about
Syncing too, calling it yoga,
In the 'yog' all could be poured out,
Except that it did not work in orgies,
So the sacred text of Kamasutra
Was edited and the entire chapter on it
Was omitted,
(Such egoists I tell you, they couldn't accommodate a contradiction.)

So be in a Pipe,
Think!
To think please for
Utopia's sake
Sync.
Put a value on.

I Belong.

In absolute darkness
The love of love's life
Had a conversation on
Insights of universal
Oneness

The mood was changing
From energy of laugh
And wellness
To union of humanity
In suffering
In this flow
I belonged to the
Love's life in fruitful
Purposes

I increased in my endurance
I could sustain more and more tears 
I laughed less
Got distracted by dreams of expanded heavens
I sounded as if I came into
Living on love's patterns 

In small corrections 
Corruption was working on all my
Relationships, more was being
Sparked to spread the fire
Of celibacy
The workings in natural energy flow

This was not remorse
Nor a commentary
But an ability to cull
And answer all good fortunes
To go and make out with
Other galaxies and leave
My planet alone

Being modest?
Oh yes!
In ever lasting restlessness
With a steady mind
I commit myself fundamentally
To hold the entire human race in balance for.....
For.....
Okay I am not that wise
And we can't depend to find answers from me all the time

Epistemologically speaking humans seeking human relationships should not study Particle Physics. 

Existence.

I have an idea
From an idea that I had
But it would be crazy
May be like I have
Been out of a mind
To believe that I
Could be helped,
To be appetizing 
I had to have an
Successful idea, but this one
Born from the idea I had 
That promised my hands
On pleasure and a holiday,
If I call it luck,
Yes! luck as it has to be an act
Of observation of a 
Spectacular mind that brings
A certainty of an Idea
From an Idea
Which believes in being
Well structured,
Now who can help me?
I tried but I need a joke.

Not Yet Saying.

Clock unwinding 
Rock climbing
Landscapes changing
Poetic experiencing
Words laughing
Hands talking
Asset trading
Oracle yelling
I yet standing
Water flowing
Everything changing
In rock climbing
As clock remains unwinding
Mysterious inward learning

All I Need To Know.

Unaligned truth of how
Things are, the concepts are,
In all kinds of human wisdom
Connected to a clarity
That when everything falls away,
A connection to a life is observed,
the heart and all that has been
said about it, it was always situated in the head,
(It had always been the head),
That is where all live,
The connections come alive,
Energy moves in responses,
Responses that teaches skills in 
A very mechanical way,
Through repetitive process,
Just as learning swimming is,
In currents that are flowing
Against you.

Impulsive.

I caught a ray of light
It wasn't a random happening
I was aligned in it's path
I acted and thought later
I had too, to think
To time my next action right
Once done
I acted to think about it later

And the unanswered questions are:
1)Why do you or do you not feel locked up?
2) Where is the above question number 1 locked up?

All Philosophers are doctors.
No doctor can be a philosopher. 

And Omar sang in me:
Drink if you don't know where you came from;
drink if you don't know where you go.

God Irrelevant.

The God grows too
To do so It has to keep
Drinking the divine
For the paradise may too die
If God returned to rest,
But it goes inside the mud
To keep itself going,
It knows of the play and the players and about all
The philosophers and the doctors too,
Waits for the suns and the nights too,
In solitude it dreams of gardens,
And keeps drinking the wine,
What have I to do with God then?
Nothing and then nothing again,
In me
There are regrets of so many
Saints and sages,
There are future worries of
Politicians yet to come,
In memory of these that were, are and will be,
I have nothing do with IT,
I can have nothing to do with IS.

Tomorrow Is Seen.

Before I could see tomorrow
The tomorrow makes the most
Of that will bee seen
The reward has been in certainty as
The harvest knows why it came
The cause was internal of life
The kiss of wet muds and gentle winds
And in my inner trust the out I
Came to know, Why should 
I call it fate then?
Fate is like moon, I have nothing to do with this empty glass,
The sun rising, the temple is 
Being washed again,
The seed has the tree and all,
I have only to learn how to
Make me productive,
So that even when I die
My ashes would produce some
Flowers distinct.

I see you to know you to like you and that is such a natural way of being. Beauty is omnipresent and has never ever required a beholder. 
Everything 'in A life' is true. The truth is dominated by peace that already exists in the throb the beat and the pulse of life.

A philosophical question staring
At life requesting illumination 
Trying to understand the presuppositions of ethics,
For there was always a movement
To integrate the pairs available
To knowledge.

As honest as my teacher
I am a recognized honest,
I move and motivate with
An action that are required 
To be finished within 
Dead lines.

They trained me through
Semesters,
In all I had eight of them,
Which took 10 for my little
Brain to get through,
Making this a trait for me to 
Not to question the
Dead Lines. 

I don't  love the dead in lines,
Yet it is the only way to make my living.

For once then there came
A cause with no options,
Love demanded wants,
Wants that had to be
Fulfilled, and create hope.

To lovers in tenses separate
In understanding of years
Spent with each other
Can know of each other
As friends for all tenses to come.

Love felt inside would always
Require two too in of you
To feel love and need love.

Where could I Go
With contradictory intentions?
To a desk with a
Clean, plain sheet of paper
With a pen to write.
Yes, writing helps discovery!

Not From The Book.

Learned man little
Thought about dust and
Sang:
I am not returning to any Dust. What dust? In fact I ain't returning anywhere.

May be some one sick sitting
By the garden or in
The forest wrote to no one particular
That being alive is to know
That one came from
Dust and would return to dust
Oneday,
It had to be someone sick
Writing that.

I would have never needed anything
From the outside if the
Inside wasn't ever created
Never got blinded by the war
And thanked havens for the food.

I think I got everything
I needed
It was now the need to make
It's Next Move,
And I hope it remembered 
That I ain't returning anywhere.

Lines.

I was here
It was the road to
A singular question
The road looked still
And held some dim light.

How could this road remain
So alone, it was the way,
It appeared so without answering,
It was empty and pointed
That there wasn't any junction
In miles that it promised,
Till I wanted to touch it,
The natural impulse was
To trust it
Walk it and never to touch it,
With no right to ask any
Further questions,
The road seemed to have eyes,
They being fixed on me 
Repeating a promise to 
Make me come to silence and a flow, a trance like state.

I had this awareness of being awake,
Why would I then trade it with the road?
I won't see far on that dim
Lit road more than a mile,
And it made sense to my
Intimacy that the
Seduction of that path was
Was very mechanical, insane,
I decided to remain flesh and blood,
Than a ghost on the road.

The you, You think is You.

Experience a truth
Then communicate about it
Invariably you would be told
It's partial
Then again you start learning
Struggling, journeying,
Probably you stop at a person,
And you call it home, that
Here is where you know
Who you are
What you are

If you were young you would
Have decades to induce thought 
Induced experiences
Which tell you about
Awareness of I am
Within the background of 
How much you labeled the
I am
It remains the ultimate question
It keeps remaining the first for you
It turns you in to a teacher,
You adopt this label on you
And you try to be still
Through thoughts of your own
And through those whom you
Label as your students/ friends
Exploring all that you aren't 
And all that not exists
In a meaningless discovery
Of who am I.

The beingness and discovering that awareness is noise too,
Noise like any other chatter,
Being attached with the background of being unattached.

No Way.

Lately in the disagreement
'It should be that way'
'It should not be'
Sarcasm gaining strength 
In every day regular life 
Of that is known
Of that has to be known.

Some years back I 
Was angry at all events
That led up to that said
'That was the best I could do'
As if I was asked to operate on some scale.

I still haven't learn how to
Process anger,
There is actually No Way,
I could (or can) never share it,
Anger had nothing to do with
Maturity or something being different, health or deterioration,
It needed (and needs) life
In every single moment of outburst,
Education in to anger does not
Help it understand, may be
What only happens is transfer of pain
And stories of pains.

Anger has been my foundation
To terminate all my silent killers.

The truth is that I need not
Explain myself how could I have
Avoided the outburst of this
Natural energy, but I would
Always let it live till it's logical life.

In moments I saw me
In my definition,
I realized when injured
That life remained ready
To be perished,
Healing was an act of
Aggression for the life force,
A window held the light 
The light was the weapon
To wake up life to surge the
Blood to flow,
There was a bed in the dark corner,
It was in a new place, in my
Home it was by the door,
My home was looking strange,
I had to crawl to the bed,
Four strokes would get me there,
But I laid there thinking,
Wanting one last story to be
Narrated,
Then I could walk and sleep.
Stone is how my legs looked
Occasionally choosing to live,
Conserving energy helped me to
Curl on that clean floor,
I knew all the tiles, but the distance this afternoon was the closest,
The voices were dying now before,
Before my will to 
Straighten the curl, then curl that would help me push,
I remembered all that I had pushed, 
Here as the palms faced up I saw spaces of clean air,
The chill of the tiles tore into my temples, this forehead had touched many a temples,
But this pain was different,
It was physical, as if all had been physical,
I was mimicking life, I was ready to getting on to tomorrow,
Out there, the shiver still kept the push going in somewhere,
The odds had dismissed the thoughts, I was digging every
Square inch, I ran out of choice,
I was left with the only option, to fight,
I stayed on to fight that one more push.

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.

Thou Shall Not Covet but only Manipulate.

A village strange
In a valley
That came to life
Through life
But like a fairy tale,
Fairy tales talk of heroes,
Living heroes,
Almost all in this village
In that valley were, living.

The village in that valley now
Exists in history book,
It so happened that
One day the valley was visited by
Some monks. 

Move, you have to.

There are
Events/things that I get a chance at
Then there are 
Events/things that I get one more chance
Physically I try to scale
The space,
The joy I experience
And then how I get stuck on it,
Listening to mandalas that never 
Needed reality to operate, me to
Operate.

Energy running in energy
Creating, destroying, transforming energy in to energy,
This cannot be learnt just as a 
Zero can't be a concept.

I do exist, then I get one more
Chance to become a mathematician.

On AutoPilot.

A rip roaring start
Fresh, grand and a tangent
Call it a fun fact
I found a yesterday 
In an another day
Like my life
In a sun shine
Bouncing up and down
Transforming whims
To regress alignment
Of all needs with all goals
Of all life
In my life
Accidentally creating Plato
And more hardwiring that would
Make brand new
Sub-Conscious of care and intentions; now 
Don't you feel trapped,
If you feel, please don't think,
It is possible it is called
Freewill on AutoPilot.

Anger subsides to end in
Questions
Questions end up in
I am talking to myself
Talking to my self feels good
Like how it feels in winter sun
It could go other way too
The thought might end up
In nihilism or delusions resulting in
The mid-life crises that builds
Sand castles that are answers
To get out of bed,
One inquires that if there is an
After Life after indulging in
Adultery or a spiritual journey,
Our existence to our consciousness
On some level evolves
In to organism
Separate to everything around
Technically.
How did I reach where I am today
Through choices, yes,
On day to day to basis
I had to learn to respect 
Nature.
Mr. Russell is dead now.

I have known of three dimensions and in sleep it can go to 12, one more than the string theorist talk, only talk. My question is, my point that is with my female friend I am in my seventh dimension give & take one dimension and when with my own sex in nihilism. Wake me up

Lieh-Tzu

Within your nature there is no probability.
Either you can learn and teach altruism or righteousness. 
Either you can learn and teach chaos or evolution.
Either you can learn and teach.
about sources of life or the causes of death.
Things in doubt have probability.

I can listen to you only
When I stop talking to you
I can begin to see you
What inspires you and
Your day of work

I let my self go
I give my tongue to you
To get strength to listen
To you
So in vigor
I can keep the prayer
You sing
In my peace

An orphaned heart
Trying to limit itself
In contradiction
Trembles in violence
Bringing disaster
To manifest what it
Desired,
That was to search and
Give meaning to an
Infinite.

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!'

My Mind in My Mind.

I see
I realize the isolation
The boundaries
That a truth grows and
Cultivates in minds,
A pride with it observing all else as aliens

If an individual is defined
Hence so manifests the universe with it,
The individual can get
What it wants through will
And hard work(force),
The success of this is seen now
Yes, man has advanced and is 
Moving fast with or without a vision
This earth is a living earth

Life has a truth
The living too
And the movement of knowledge 
To take the mind towards
To live in harmony with nature,
This movement remains exclusive to a mind alone of humans and of
All other living 
Each in their 
Own capacities

But man can contemplate this, all this,
Feel separate from nature
And then invent yoga,
Water for example can only
Touch the man's mind,
Man can write poetries -
The Gayatri and hail the sun

Hence there exists an earth
And the other earth in the mind
Of the man alone,
Where out of sympathy it gives up
Eating meat too,
Thinking about the wholeness
Of the universe created by it's 
Mind.

This entire above thought too comes from
A mind, hence requires no further
Truth or any other combinations,
Let it hence
Remain one more piece of
Literature. 

TheActor.

It was a day
It came after many many days
A fortunate opportunity 
To become an artiste
To stand on a stage
And read aloud.

I had some idea
The rest was the manuscript
And then the critiques
And the block heads
Who sat there in front row
To watch me play a title.

It was a day
It had a value
To prove my nationality 
A reality through the common life
Defined as a hero's life
With a need to lose it's soul
Running away from the border
The title memoirs of a gun man.

I should have laughed
At that day
Which might become tragic
Or full of applause
So I was being born
It was that day,
A useful day with a purpose

The tickets I thought
Could remain unsold
Then I could escape the play
Of history
I felt ridiculous to have
Thought that, the producer
Had a lot invested from his pockets

Demons moved in stomach
The color of cheeks pail
I would spend this day in fasting
A miracle would help me recite
I laughed
Then the claps, the curtains were about to be raised

It was that day

The Act.

The act of insanity
Of humanity
Set me free from the search of
Saintly Sanity. 

Let's for once look at sex
And sexual preferences of humans here now,
Straight or Un-straight,
The homosexuals get to
Fill holes and their own too,
Lesbians are losers as they
Can only get toys to fill thiers,
The straights are funny
They contemplate monogamy
All their life till they die,
That is when they know what
Went wrong.
What actually went wrong with
Us?
Nothing as 'UG' says
The world cannot be different then what it is now
Or
As Rand says
I won't come to an end the world will.
Funny are the sages and saints,
They wear loose robes,
Their followers either go mad or
Turn skeptics.

Support an Idea.

All doing things, applying themselves in certain way. The approach of all start withs an anonymous fascinating question. Amazing, amazing how all are motivated to do or undo things in certain ways.
A trip, yeah! A lot to it to love.
Discover. 
Call me: 9892295406.
Turn into an honest sound bite.

Come Dive In.

If realities are all that
That stop us to move on,
Stops us from learning
The causes that make us
To do certain visible effects,
The realities then are assisted
By practicing about thoughts that are never applicable.

Hello!
Welcome to the walls
The places you can walk on here
Are there on a menu, and
You would never need an open mind,
So thanks for stopping by,
This is all that a blog can and
Should talk about---
The spare time of a busy schedule
Calling it the realities of life,
Anonymous and a little more.

In love with A full time Job.

Reflection of life can
Be shared
But life?
This a show
An ancient now though
I always needed time to listen
To meditate
All alone hence the need to share 
To speak of spiritually
And ask each
'oh, how are you today?'
Questions hanging in eyes
Hunger in throat
Making, changing, exploring
All our relations
In peace, in battles, in dreams,
Sharing the hopes of life,
But life?
There was always something in it,
As a story was always given,
Or was it all that was there,
From the stand point of life itself.

Push Me Away.

All those who came in late
(Well they came in late)
They came in ready
Looking for things
That could be called the
'My Thing' 
Printed in books
And old questions

The........
Future would be swarming with
Auto and biographies
Written to 
'Save Us'
From?
From the confusion
Of exchanges of life and
A respectful afterlife
Thought out well
In the deathbed of deads 

Those who did not come in late
Those busy ones
With great family life
True untrue
Discussed and hanging in
Living rooms
Would rock the rocking chairs
And hate all those who
Came in late

In pleasure
In trouble
Looking dirty
Hanging on in a shower 
Consciously conscious 
Thinking how long
Would I be married to
Those who did or did not come
Come in late. 

A brief journey within.

A forest found a path
A path abandoned by the valley beyond
Hope it seemed to that forest
The fear would now be quietened
In a living past

The sun would be on way
To retire
The source of the forest
Which made it tremble
And grow
Many a animals would now be
Still
But this forest had a secret
It had a path as it's guide
And long after the sun had withdrawn
It could still grow
Here

In the path within
The hour first
I knew
The law of the king did not
Operate there,
The air free,
No tracing or retracing,
Nobility could not manifest,
Yet nothing evil of father had still come.

I want it
I don't want it
The senses open to this
Energies are required to stay in the wants
Hundreds of them occur in one single day
I take all this personally
For I have knowledge of values
Of sacrifice, of participation,
And in this I come in to stay
With objects all around
Constructing, arising, occupying
All of separation of insides and outsides
From all I want
All I don't want.

Come back here to this blog again and again
The effects of it are now seen.

Oh!

The present exists in time
The time exists in thought
The thought in identification
Identification in feelings
Which wants to integrate itself
With life.
The positions before the game of
Chess begins has to be
Displayed.
The truth then?

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,
It is in activity
Till the finite is in activity.

An Understanding.

Running into one another 
A human mind deals
Only with itself,
With wit
With imagination
In restlessness
Establishing a reality 
Or a vain phantom,
Having sources 
In simplest of elements
May be sometimes in new light,
In meditation the intellect
adds and subtracts the laws of nature,
Validity hence comes from
A reasoning mind,
For metaphysics cannot be
Ignored by ignorant too.
I will be running into you
Now.