--

Analogies fail, metaphors stink, ideas seduce -
But reality - is it created or revealed?
Or the parts we don't write, are revealed to us.
Then do they have the same divine force behind them.. or it is just our aspiration to regard as great all that is beyond us.

And yet I cannot help but wince. As if in letting it go I impart to the dream that missing touch of perfection. As if the perfect, the ideal do not belong to the realm of life and reality, they are safe in our thoughts and in our words.

Ende

And now I stand still
And now I look away
My mind's eyes fixed
But my mind running away..

Is there an end, or it's always a new beginning?

a feeling..

This feeling that came back to me today

Of something greater impending

While I fumble with the keys, outside the door -

In the darkness, with you by my side.

I wonder if this is what night feels, at the cusp of dawn. 

.....

---

Pinks clouds, with blue air mixed,

Sprawling across the dimming sky

My eyes flitting from cloud to cloud,

The sky seems to leap out,

Out of the slits of my eyes.

These eyes, they trace, 

Every single ray

As far as they can see

And blocked by the horizon, are,

Contained at the precipice of eternity.

These shapes, these colors this expanse affords to me

Yet how much there is that will never be seen -

There one tree, two, ten and then many

Till they dissolve in plenitude, 

And become a green smudge pasted on the horizon,

Like a smug smirk -

Of the nature of all things, obscure and fleeting.

Sequins

In a tiny corner of a tiny shelf
Sometimes I wish to fold back inside myself
And tap my toe on the inverted sky
Of the numerous tiny sequins scattered by my side

-------

Sleep eludes me.. there is no comforting tic-tock of the clock or clattering of the fan.. I can hear the kitchen tap leaking, the distant sound of moving trucks and every now and then someone passes by on this road.. the dogs, they haven't barked in a while.. but they will soon star.. someone will rouse them, incite their fury.. or these mischievous things might be scheming against each other..

I so deserve a peaceful sleep right now. Not kidding no, countless thoughts have been clamoring in my head without inspiration or purpose, just aimlessly passing by as if through me to some other place. And I know that everything will be so different in the morning, I just want to sleep through this.

A little yawn but no use even trying. I have been sleepless before but winters have never been this way. I'm reminded of my childhood. Ours was a family of early sleepers and very often I found myself awake after everyone had dozed off. I wonder what I used to think then. I just remember this one thing.. that I would be lying next to my mother and I would be really scared about waking her up.

I got distracted.. I started looking at FB. So many stories running in parallel.. not that I am able to follow them completely.. but it all fits in, somehow. I like this word - somehow.

A truck has stopped outside my house and a jeep. No not kidding. This place. I wonder if rats could sleep in this noise. Its 2 am. I am not even remotely poetic. Maybe I should resume reading Famished Road, that could put me to sleep. Or some nice dose of economics proper.

Why people would you choose to care to step out at 2 am in the night? Why would you honk? And why does it have to be so bloody chilly...

Just yesterday I was thinking about how I have managed to not catch the cold. I have it now.  There. Fait accompli. Late though.

fabric of truth

And then a drop of rain
slid through the yellow scales
leaving on its wake a watery trail
A beetle approached, on the leaf it lodged
the leaf with a sigh bent -
and it shed the watery gem
on the grey folds of a tiny humorless pebble below

This scene they enacted before my eyes
yet I cannot concede
that the beetle was sent to make the leaf bend
so that I could see
all the places where the vagabond water perches -
as the clouds retreat

I keep running around the corridors of Thought
looking for something I no longer apprehend
And keep repeating to myself - why the beetle,
the beetle, to the leaf it went?

I dig a hole here and poke a finger there
But I never manage to get through the door
I have no clue what I'll find on the other side
a book, a gong or maybe a grail or another door?

Or perhaps a garden breathing fresh, after a light shower
And then the drop of rain
would slide through the yellow scales yet again
And a mad beetle would complete
the selfsame act that destiny ordained

Pray say truth is not what lies behind that door
its woven everywhere in all I see, do and hear
like a pattern 
through the fabric
of time and space