More than Words !

.. there stood she again staring down the narrow tunnel of memories .. a twilight masked as the dusk covering her journey as the quiet spider making its move toward her favourite book, for unknown reasons… the invisible and uncontrollable rumble of the thinker... lying in the bed… a silent flickering thought of how this world is unfair to itself.. .. or how the loved one seems to be so unfair or may be love .. who remains awake looking at her from both corner of the highway.. and also leaves with every vehicle that passes this way.. but does it matter?.. her freedom… the facade so bright and clear she is free, she thinks she is free… only escaping the torture of folded realities .. who is thinking that thought?... gazing upon the shapes of the shadow laid upon by her dreams, …??who is this dreamer gardening the flowers of outlined direction, directionless caring if the outlook of freedom should look in a certain way, and if not, it's not fair ..engaged so deeply i...

the dreamer's infinity  looks like a painting from visions of Blake  there, alive, deep, poetic  b ut quite untouchable  like an unrequited song of a nymph  that echoes everyone's heart, but no one listens  or no one knows what it is  reconciliation it is like a spiralling flame burning deep within the quest  toward  the sorrow of the fleeting beam of creation  the moment it creates, it vanishes  the moment it vanishes, it creates  an endless pit or  maybe an endless bliss  paradoxes painting paradoxes, he remembers   illumination  you touch my heart with your eternal smell  'I' look for it everywhere  ....opposites reconciling ......... bondage oh! liberation  an intimate communion  the unstruck music  nothingness  for bliss is despair  transmutation  the sun said, I am the light  I laughed  so she de...

closely knit blood vessels intertwined as the cathedral of ONE self-standing electrical impulses interpolated in natural condensation of love drumbeats breaking barriers as carriers of irony and charm mingling deep into the void as the lover's breath in radiating calm  what is iniquity when in a dream? and when the dream is life... the lotus as it grows in the bewildered embrace, is it YOU who decides? was the universal ocean churned by the gods or the lovers?  or... or, did the union of the love sprout as the oceans? who nestles in the heart? the impulse or the ONE? or is it the poetry of love, can it ever be found? is this poetry a foolish prattle trying to settle in the ceaseless cradle of a dream the silent screams of ignorance claiming to be one with the pearls of pleasureful thrills are you quite enough to hear this? ...the silence between the nude spaces

the wheel turns the apostrophized muse into the soliloquy of reflections blocking a view or a memory of an abyss and jumping into a sandstorm of an unusual dilemma an auditorium where they formed life fading slowly into a modesty of nothingness to break the 'fourth wall' of this catastrophe she has to defamiliarize the familiar ..the recurring dream, a horror she has to erase the faces of the lover, those he wore, around her, near afar the faces of the hide and seek or the hands of aesthetic illusions the 'wheel' suspended in the beams of her eyelids and memories played in a sequential loop the faces are not him, or her but a landscape of cognitive biases a tantrum of reality where many are stuck, many lost this act makes the bigger wheel turn as if an illuminated acknowledgement of life is laughing back at them laughing at everyone and itself and at this 'play' of actions and reactions to the apostrophized muse whose lov...

restfulness BREATHE.. inhale, exhale  she said to him, hear the songs of life singing to the ears of love help your heart feel the poetry  weaving inside of you waving at you  spinning as you learn to feel as a scientist.. learn to question  as a poet.. learn to breathe the beauty  as a philosopher... learn to see the vile as a mystic.. enter the temple enter inside the innermost sanctum of your being as the great Mahasiddha Sarahapa once said to realise it, rest in unstructured ease without meditating on anything nothing to do, silently singing the songs of love and entering the temple of life .. in the silence of restfulness  but that does not mean that the wonder has vanished away and no creativity emerges from that silence  its just the opposite  .. in the silence of restfulness is the great tree  the tree, as it branches towards the heaven  also roots towards the i...

In Hermetic Philosophy, there are three matrices: 1. The Matrix of the Earth, or the Universal Matrix of the World.. the great vase of nature. The sepulchre and living tomb of all creatures. The receptacle of elements and germs... 2. The Matrix of the Uterus.. or the Matrix of the rock.. the force of creation. The force that makes gold and silver out of the rocks... the ROCK is the GOLD.. 3. The Matrix of Unspeakable.. the secret of the secrets..  a Vase of silence which becomes the matrix of the golden Tree of the Philosophers.. the Matrix of the circulation of spirit...

In Sanskrit, Fire is referred to as Agni. It connotes the essence of nature, the primordial power that consumes, transforms and conveys. It is one of the five constitutive substance 'Mahabhuta'. There are more than a thousand different types of fire mentioned in the Vedas. From the fire in our stomach to the fire in the energetic saps concealed within plants. That is the secret of fire in Alchemy. Every alchemical process uses different fire. But there is one particular type of fire which is revered as the highest form of fire. And it is called 'the Philosophical Fire'. The Philosophical Fire is the most uniform, a continous form of fire. It is not derived from matter. But it participates in the nature of Sulphur. The spirit is mentioned as Sulphur (sulfer) in Alchemy. It dissolves, congeals and calcines all. It has a certain personality when invoked. It is humid vapourous, altering, digesting, penetrating, subtle and aerial. It is not violent, it doesn't burn,...