No rhyme or reason
Would I cry for it
In truths and treason
Tears deck my cheeks
Lie to my head
Make me drizzle
Leave me for dead
My heart's grown feeble
Feeble for you
Shedding my soul
Feeling so blue
In arms so cold
Grasping thin air
You're lost from sight
Only a shadow to stare
Now alone I fight
A single shadow
Brave the seas
Drown in shallows
In them find ease
You're gone from touch
But not from mind
My soul's clutched
Hoping you're fine
No more could I do
Only to hope
All my love for you
Gives me strength to cope
my strength is yours
My tears for you
Even though you're lost
My everything's for you
I Love You
He stood still as a rock. His eyes burnt red with fury and blind anger. In his hands, an instrument of death; In his heart, a burning desire; And before him upon the ground, a trembling foe.
"Mercy! Mercy!" The coward cried.
Those words fell upon deaf ears. Madness had blinded him. A cold insatiable thirst coursed through him.
Blood for blood. Revenge for the fallen. Payment fo the destruction. That was all he wanted from them: From the enemy.
He could smell it. The salty stench of sweat and fear. The taste of revenge Sweet, sweet revenge.
A soft click. A bright flash. His ears rang. And then there was silence.
The deed had been done; But to what end?
Consider this: You are blind, deaf and devoid of the sense of touch; Would you consider yourself alive?
Alive: To break the term down, it refers to an organism that breathes, feeds, thinks -this ideal may not necessarily be agreed upon- as well as being capable of dying.
So could you imagine living with eyes that do not see, ears that do not hear as well as skin that does not feel?
In darkness and silence. What would that be like?
Would it be a frightful thing; Or perhaps a more freeing experience?
For the brain to accept no visual input could mean a great deal in terms of its evolution. Much thought could be made that would be free of shape and form.
No hearing means no noise. That would be ridding your mind of unnecessary distractions.
Another way of looking at it, would be getting rid of excess sources to focus on. No beeping booming and screeching could possibly catch your attention. No music. No rhythm. Won't that mean that you would gain a greater sense of focus?
No touch. no feeling. no more texture. Everything you grasp and hold would be the same. Not a single hing that's soft, rough, warm or cold. Everything's void. The mind would be more accepting of all things if everything were the same, wouldn't it?
Can you imagine living without these three senses? Would you consider yourself dead without them?
Try and picture it.
To be frank; I couldn't. Close my eyes, cover my ears and sit me down in an empty room. Still in my mind, I saw, heard and felt. To be devoid of these senses was to me an impossibility...
Today, I saw an ant trapped in the intricate webbings of a spider. The poor little critter struggled with all its strength to no avail; Barely even shaking the silky strands upon it.
All its trembling did was merely alert its captor of its presence: The ant had only hastened its death.
After senseing the presence of its prey, the spider silently stepped out of its hole in the tree and approached the ant. It calmly latched onto the creature with its spindly legs and bit into the ant.
Sharp, burning, mind-numbing poison coursed through the ant's pitiful little body. the spider happily wrapped its trapped meal.
I wished only to set the ant free. Save it from suffering. It would be the right thing to do; Wouldn't you say?
Think about it: I'd be saving a life. It's merely an ant, but a life is still a life. You may not care; Others may not care; But the ant would care. The spider would care.
The spider would care...Which brought me to my next train of thought.
The ant's life may be in the hands of the spider, but ironically, the spider's ultimate survival rests in the hands of the ant too.
The death of the ant would keep the spider alive.So if I saved the ant, I would condemn the spider to prolonged suffering if not death.
Save one and kill the other.
Perhaps it is the cycle of life: That one life has to be taken for another life to go on. Of course it is. The need for death is undeniable for life to move on ultimately.
And so I stood there under the tree; Watching this minute drama unfold itself. I was stumped yet again by the beauty of balance that God has created for the world: For me.
I watched on, mentally parallyzed by the significance of a single ant.
If only I could approach every single event in my life with similar foresight. It was then that I found a new goal in life. A new step in my search for self-transcendence
Lost in a moment
Dreaming of a kiss
Burning with a passion
Searching for your bliss
Touch upon skin
Tingles down my spine
Faculties on a spin
Drugged of a kind
Night and day's the same
Food and drink's stale
Time no longer follows its grain
All logic too has failed
Wrapped in a dream
Tied down to my sleep
Nothing else is good it seems
When my heart is in your grip
Irony unseemly has come
A cloak over me draped
Trapped mouse have I become
Wishing to never escape
Hold me
Kill me
Let go never
Let me in your arms forever
Noise. We hear it everywhere, everyday. Screaming, screeching and booming away into our ears. All that chaos of everyday life that stumbles around us in the universal array of harmonious existence.
Our brain. It filters out the ruckus it deems unnecessary, and only tunes in to a limited amount of that noise: Just like a radio. What is so amazing about this is that everything is done at a subconscious level. You don't plan to do it, you don't think of doing it, you don't even realise that you are doing it. You just do.It's as natural as breathing.
Can you imagine hearing every creak and whisper, every hum and rumble, every bang and boom. Take a minute of silence and listen to tall the noise around you. How much of that did you unknowingly ignore before this?
A lot isn't it? Now comes the BIG question. How do we do it?
The brain is so capable of disseminating all that noise and picking all the noise it wants; throwing the rest away. Yes. Exactly like a transistor radio.
Knowing this, one may be tempted to point out the fact that there is a possible existence of a higher consciousness. A more distinct tier of mental awakening.
So what state of mind are we in now if that is the case? Are we asleep? Perhaps.
Perhaps, we're in a dream.
The capacity of the human heart is without limit. when it loves,it loves endlessly. When it hates, it hates fervently.
The measure of the human heart is not in pounds or meters. Neither is it in grams. There is no specific measure for it. For it is insubstantial. A vortex hidden in a dimension beyond our comprehension.
The human heart is the tank that holds our morals, sense of justice, emotions and a deep connection beyond description to God, nature and all things around us.
Much purpose was the human heart made for. An amazing tool to serve us as a guide. A compass on ou journey through life. As a matter of fact, it ,is our life. Without it, we would be without purpose. Without it, we would be DEAD.
It is our center of being. Hidden within it is the source of all that we are. Our character, sense of self and our soul.
Now, all that said and done, only one question remains. Does it really exist or is it just a manifestation of the mind?
Wherein lies the mark of sanity?
Oft do we draw lines between sanity and confusion. Constantly tracing a line between actions thought crazy and logically moderated acts. How do we decide between that which makes sense, and that which defies all that is natural and sane?
- Jumping off a building
- Running down a hill backwards
- Working for nothing
- Dying for love
- Believing in God
- Talking to yourself
- Laughing for no apparent reason
- Crying for no apparent reason
- Kissing your toes
- Sniffing your shoes
- Falling in love
- Never falling in love
How many of those things above makes sense for you? How many of them, is a mark for the sane? Or rather, for the insane. You tell me what you think.
Every person perceives sanity differently. Abstraction of thought is a clear sign of insanity, is it not? Gradual degradation of logical thought. A mark of insanity wouldn't you think? You'd be insane to think otherwise.
Then again, many a man have gone against the marks of sanity made by their social cicles. Many a genius of our time and beyond have run through history, breaking the boundaries of present and past knowledge. Geniuses such as Galileo Galilei and Isaac Newton, not to mention Einstein and Plato. All these men of abstract thought and impossible intelligence. Their discoveries trudged along the edges of human knowledge and understanding, coming close even, to being labeled mad men.
Were they insane? Well, to come up with the special theory or relativity you had to be!
For a single man to stand up against the relative ideals of every other person around him, would label him insane. For a single man to oppose the visage of the world upheld by others, would make him a lunatic. I'd have to agree with that, don't you think so too? I'd have to be crazy to say otherwise.
So, sanity is marked by the relative similarities of thought patterns within the society. and as these ideals change and shift, so does that mark change. The idea of human flight was naught but a dream of a child in the past. But the Wright brothers changed that fact.
Lunacy. It's the heart of our sanity.
Moonlit night aglow
Silent I bask in thee
Moonlit waketh thy muse
Set mine heart free
Thy silvery blood
Run it through mine veins
Fill me with divinity
Unleash thine reins
Heavenly sight thou art
Crooning over mine skies
Thy smile harbinger of warmth
To mine heart doth love rise
A smile to thank thee
For thy light and touch
For thy sparkles and sighs
Lastly my heart to thee I vouch
Nothing would matter more to me
Than to be the one you seek
Nothing would matter more to me
Than to be the one you need
Nothing would mean anymore to me
If your face I would never see
Oh the pain of being in love
To be lost in waves unheard
To wail in search for the one for me
And lose her in time after finding
To be forgotten by her
To wail in her passing through and through
I she has left behind
I she never wants to see
I she told to never come back
Buried in her past forever drowning
Buried in her past constantly digging
Buried in her past silently weeping
Pathetic
Would that I could find my way home. That the path back were not clouded in mist. Would that death would not take so long. So that I'd not find myself lost in the hidden seconds and minutes.
Looking back in time long past,I find naught to talk about. Looking back on years gone by, I find much to think about.
Where am I? Where have I been? Who am I? What have I done?
Little questions with smaller answers. Deeds have brought me nowhere. Thoughts merely left me puzzled. Try as I might, there is no absolute answer. Memories, stories, remembrances and past references. Each experience builds upon me. My character a sum of all these lessons. 20 years.
20 years. All is a blur. Yesterday, two days back. None of it comes to me as a clear cut answer. All of it muddled together. Meshed into a pudding of mental pictorials and unspoken words.
Not a single day beyond the rest.
Where do I look to? If my memories I cannot trust. My past not even I can rely on. How do I sift through the truths of long ago; and rid myself of the lies of the mind?
When left and right becomes one, there is no moving forward. There is no looking behind.
That is how I've lost myself.
Why be someone else?
Why wear a mask?
Why conceal yourself?
Why strive to be someone your not?
Why change yourself?...
WHY?
:::amid the shadows of trancendence:::
thoughts, principles and philosophy is the main point of discussion. Subjects ranging from love to music and life can be discussed here. Anyone is welcome to post their thoughts on my articles in the tagboard. And feel free to tell me if you think I'm wrong. I'm open to criticism.
