Past Future.

Time travels in me as I sleep, into a past, into a future, on a trail, bringing back to a future never seen otherwise. Connections in Cells in brain don't work when I am awake, most of the past if not those that propose a threat or challenge seems wiped out, so does imagination, with past goes the power to imagine. Things change when sleep takes over. In sleep this time travel cannot be controlled by me, sometimes I see me wanting to stop but seem helpless. Few days back when I wasn't able to open  my eyes, but then somehow I forced myself to open my eyes, there seemed to be two sets of eyes, eyes that saw the objects of the room and the other eye that was still watching that time travel, somehow now I could switch these eyes at will, I could watch from my time travel or choose to watch the objects of the room. There seemed to be two sets of ears too, one that could hear the fan swirling and the birds outside and one that could hear a voice, mine, in the time travel that was asking to switch the set of eyes from time travel to the objects of the room and then back.

Harmony in randomness comes through my senses, the randomness though eludes me.

She told me that we would meet again, that her shadows won't leave me, her tears would stay in me, her nights would be lonely with me and yes certainly we would meet as if we were strangers again.
My eyes remained empty, the throat remained dry, like some frame on the wall with dust on it, I looked at her walk away.
Her walk stirred memories frame by frame, each step she took away from me, time stood still in me, I saw her so clearly, as if I hadn't seen her at all for some years now.
I once heard a morning song, a song of heart, songs that happy people sing, I was romancing her, in love with life and she with me.
I had to leave that evening back home, but her beautiful hair that was pinned back, held me back, an act that told me things would never remain the same.
An evening that was spent without dinners as her face that quenched all my anguish, hunger in me was from my head to my foot and it tore me outside in. The heart set itself on a journey and I wanted to capture my vigil, I saw she demonstrated that she could provoke passion and trouble with her voice. Her eyes were ruthless and revolutionary and she was in love with herself and she wasn't at ease with her past. She was a mind reader and there I was realizing I was one too, In the sand there I wrote her a love letter, all my hopes in those sands that held a promise that they would hide it from time.

Today the letter read itself to me as if the sands had kept the promise, each word killing me in my head.
A life was traveling back and building a bridge to tell me that there was never ever that she came or she left, a face held itself and so did a voice, crossing a street and a flowing floral skirt flirting as her face was to my walk to her. She was amazed that I could hold her in my eyes and that her love could make her see me hearing her.

Sunyata.

Stiti sunya hai aisa ehsaas hota hai,
Par koi toh isse bhi pechaan raha hai,
Apne aap se alag huun yeh yakeen hota hai,
Phir aapne aap ko dundhe ne mein,
Uss shunya ki stiti se alag hota hoon.

Phir nayee soch leti hai janam
Phir wohi soch hoti hai khatam

Chahatein unn soch mein aati hain nazar,
Unnke puure na hone ka phir lagta hai dar,
Issi dar se ladta hoon,
Aeey zindagi tujhe paane ki, tujhse
Ek hone ki keemat deta hoon.

Iss suniya ki stiti se issliye alag rehta hoon.

The path remains unknown to paths,
Cause, I move from a past to pasts, always.
On knowing this,
I am certain now that,
The journey thus
Remains known to me.

Dream to dream
There is a time travel machine in my mind,
There is energy available there,
That energy slows the time, or makes
time take quantum jumps,
In my waking state, too,
The energy available is
which slows down my working time,
To do more or get done more,
This being then a process where
a dream is made,
Dream by dream,
I sleep working in energy channels, these are
movements within an electrical potential.

I stay awake in my dream, to
interact with the flow of time and the energy that radiates the dream.

All Alone.

The air carries the ashes too,
And then there are thoughts
That carry giving up, an ending, and
They carry changes,
Of the who of  who I am,
Then there is a why, round the corner,
A life waits there in that, in that intelligence,
And the air is certain of the changes it carries
And brings it on all alone.

In my dream state I needed no external light(sun) to see all that I did in my dream. I was the light itself witnessing the dream that was me too.

My Thurst.

I lost it
To find it
A game that I indulged in

I lost it again
To find it again
Each day bought me that opportunity, and
I played it, it felt new every-time I indulged,
I liked it
I hated it
I felt it.

It had a story each time
That had to end
Before I slept every night.

I have had choices,
That helped me sleep,
I remembered mostly all my sleep.
Wanting what I wanted,
I was living them.

Voices thus spoke of,
Reflections of my mind,
The rhythm of its body, that
I am in the instinct of my desires, and
I have so much more to do.

The Gifts Of Gods.

Not only I can, you can too, see, that in night, you still can work yourself out. In abundance of moments, value of each exceeds thus in which I work these seconds of the night.
Flames burn bright and bring the past and future down, at last a weapon in my anger, my love is discovered for a morning that exerts to come to me before its time.

All moments empty, then fill themselves, if lethargy is sacrificed in the night,the wealth thus multiplies.

TA.

And you too
And you too
.
.
And you too,
What a pleasure.

A Surprise There.

A leaf enters a diary, when,
It has the sting
To last a life time.

YES

A simple YES to the now, a YES to happening, that one/first YES is contagious. This one YES grows to burst into limitless possibility.

Work To Do.

In the woods I was stopped, there was a job to be completed, people to meet, to fall in love again which I know would come as a question, I had to talk, to cope with endings that are a reminder to me who is always alive, the woods of course would give me one more chance to let me measure love, to move love into light.

The Neurotic.

I had a dream last night, rather had a feeling last night. I was there and it was all I got. It was a school and there were people, ordinary people, talking about food they eat, should eat and how it is that fat comes about at places that doesn’t show in the mirror. There was a movie hall down the corridor. May be it represented an escape door, I don’t know, it was there. I saw a file. I saw me in that file. There it was, for a quick read.
It was a script, with limited role. The best part in the script was about ice creams, the happy part, the rest was about others.
I want to make movies. I want to buy then tickets to my movies. Sit there in dark, watching them and asking me, what do I think.

In The Still Of The Night.

A sky searched,
A circle chased,
A rain came in concealment,
An object called philosophy
Thus required a study.

Chip by chip stones flew,
A night died to become a day,
Execution was thus worshiped,
It could rid boredom to action some.

I dug the earth each hour
To change my shape
A heaven in force waited there
For me to dig, a servant here,
A master there, me.

Lazy bones once and
In me they creaked too,
I then began to
Love the nights and I
Let them burn in my face,
Never obedient. I slept the
Whole day,
Sin hence was some devil,
And I rolled in it too.

'Kill, kill the night,'
The child shouted in all it's
Dreams,
'Once and for all take that jump,
So what if it is still the night,
Sing more,' I called out to it,
'For you are required by so many
More.'

Hunger then became the god,
Which the food could never
Put an end to,
A jump would, a thought could,
I took a position and claimed the
Great in the greatness in that
I were born, that
All were born.

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.

Anger, Desire, Hunger.

I had to hear them all,
All they had to say and do,
Hoping that they would by themselves
Look at the problem,
Anger?,
They have been ceaselessly talking
About it for centuries now,
Only talking,
Never dealing,
Never realizing where it rises and feeds;
The Desires, and if let, how it burns,
Hunger too burns me,
I am a system, and these,
Anger, desire, hunger are very simple,
They are the forms of me,
And what burns about me,
There was never anything about them
To be talked, never,
But they did,
And I had to listen,
And ask, does life have
Any meaning?

Unfinished Lines.

I try to understand you
I ask a why
I can't deny that

I wake up

To only see you

I live it, when

I see you walk away

It’s cool,
I play

It can only go up

To a point

Fingertips on my lips
I focus as am
Too close to the sun

Hear me out once
I'm a bad listener
I try
I ask a why

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A ray by a ray
Life reaches out
To me as I lay
Alone
Light through light
The roads reaches out
Inside of me it
Works up a me

I see her
I say a “Hi”
She says she
Loves the sound of that

The ray would

Someday search for a day

It would know then

What a search had meant

And I would trade it

With a day
For a night with
Her

-----------------------------------------------------------

Mixed up
Here there imaginary,
Nothing that anyone can do
I dream and in that dream
I live a love
To something for live for
A day or a year
Or a lifetime
In a song
I call you
Be mine
Be there
Till the end of us

Indulgence

I scribble out an I
It's an
Inner burst of a last relationship and
As always being
Invisible to my anger
I take a deep breath,
Walking a night in the sound
i see a star in the sky from my window
And a face of last memory,
The memory clings,
That's what they do,
Clinging tightly to the dark night these radiant memories,
Always as usual I gather myself.
For sometime every night,
I become raw to the I,
Increasing the chaos of my survival pattern.