More than Words !

How would the wind feel cold or warm; If I blew her away in love,  with every touch of her's, I play.  Immoral they may say the banks of river in spring, lovers bathing in love  in devotion and in delight. Rapturous beauty of eyes,  moving away tendrils,  her ears seducing  clouds above the moon.  And I sing the song of her lips on mine.

Dear Existence,  Of what I am, is of what you scaled up to be.  Your presence in my life is like a dancing impersonal verb. And my earth-born senses were duly incapable of watching the springs of your love. It took me aeon's, numerous cycles of births and deaths. It took me universe's. But finally I returned home. Or would it be truthful to say, you opened yourself into me. And in cadence of this being, my consciousness synced into your divinity.  The absoluteness of our affair is almost incomprehensible. For, My lips kisses yours lips every moment that I might exist and every moment that I might not. And my eyes, closed or open, would see you everywhere. And my skin dives deep in your presence like candle flare burning itself and dissolving in the universe. My senses are just the echoes of your omnipresence. From the retina of my eyes to the visions of your exploration, I capture everything in my being. And that very moment, when you are expanding, I am g...

Birds in her balcony flew over her smiles,  I bid her farewell of her doings right and wrong I shall rejoice them all through mirror barriers  even if I am blind and numb seeking her far a'way  in her bewilderment with wings of insomnia and failed art of translation  I have no words- So I'll just kneel down and kiss her from cheeks to toes That's fair enough  if she blossoms in tears !

The word REALITY is derived from a Latin word 'realis' which means relating to things. It is a very meaningful word. It explains life in the most clear way. Reality is nothing but what you relate to. Humans have always worked on to understand reality, the whole function of human studies in dimensions of astronomy, anatomy & physiology, biology, meteorology, astrology, oceanology, and geology, and all other forms of studies is basically the human effort to understand life, as the subset of reality. But even with so much of effort, man never understands what reality is. He doesn't even understand his own identity. The very identity that he is bestowed upon at his birth makes him a prisoner in some bounded sense of morality, religion and 'isms'. Which makes him feel away from his true nature. That's why everyone of us, at some period of time, ask ourselves 'WHO AM I ?' Although, we never concretely find the answer. We just play with the insuffic...

Cupids from her Saturn Traveler's taste of my spring She flowers within him, Bodhisattva affair- a Metamorphosis  Ancient Apollo arch  Fornication cults of love  Odyssey in restoration Waves of divinity- Enkidu's dream  lullabies of nymphs,  The prayers of Dharma !

I am surely not buying to the political agenda of any kind surfacing around. Not even the new age 'mambojambo' going on, which is calming to change the unfolding of national reality. For a simple fact that I don't trust uptight people completely unaware about the humane understanding of self, yet pretending to understand life and its ways. I don't buy the nonsense of illusive curvature feeding upon a center as an ego and winding up about peace and security.  I took time to look through the grid of information available that could make me understand these people and circumstances. I took a while to reach on my conclusions. But as I went on listing the bones, I found out that there were none. There was no skeleton to those words of change. There was just a wall of anesthetic plastic freedom of categorized impulses. And the parts where leaders need 'sophia' was not even considered.  As I see it, the rebellion starts from the heart. From individuals, ...

                                           The trails wont last long yet she moved on along the faint path of hope, a tunnel she said was right in front of her, with a small light from the next corner, she moved and moved and moved and moved, but did she reach there ? Her cheek bones were cold as the winter winds and she had never felt the warmth of sun for days. Every step was a battle field. Her clothes in rag and her shoes nearly tore into her foot alone. Beside her hope she had nothing. This was her glory days. The days of triumph. When she learned that life is a continuous walk. Her hope is her death nothing more. Yet, she moves along everyday. Why does she walk ? The eyes never leave her side. The eyes that wants her skin, her flesh and her purity. This mad house is full of men. And her songs are merely lullaby for the gates of lust. A child she was, a women s...