I think of him I think mature. Selfless. Stoic. 24 hour full power something that helps him When I think of him, I think so much love. So much care. Makes me want to be better Stronger. Happier. Lighter. Vast like the ocean so I can cradle him be his lullaby, his cocoon Help him be the butterfly he wants to be. Happy. Free. Light. I think of him. I think love. Love I never felt before. Selfless. Giving. Nurturing. Flowing endlessly and more.
Iridescence
Could it be that we all come with a limited amount of words? Like the amount of breaths make up how long we live? I wonder if I've used them all, the precious ones, or, is it that each one is unique? Much like every breath is life giving, testament to a life one's living? If they're not all unique, the words, I hope I'm not done yet, with the ones that are special, precious and deep. I hope they're waiting to be explored marking the iridescence they arise from, the striking luminance that I'm hoping I'm yet to see.
Vipassana. Remixed.
It's 6 am. I'm up. Wide awake listening to Ryan Lewis' remix Vipassana. It's centering, at the same time leads my mind to blow up. Tracing different possiblities. Possiblities of potential explored, to be explored all written up in my tiny scrawl in an ever growing bundle of journals, pages filled filled with things I see, find interesting or stuff that just effect my life. Vipassana. Talking to myself. Notes to a future self, happy, excited musing, many a times lost doodled, repetitive, random rants plans, lists, so much more. All in ink. I love ink, black or blue. There was a time I was a couple of moves away From being dead. Now I'm A student of the breath. Reflecting on what matters. I was put here to do something. Take out all the ugly shit inside And try to make it something beautiful. I'm getting stronger. Vipassana is a science of mind and matter. This is my version Putting it all into recording Blessed to share my story.
Humsafar
Kisi ko pyaar dede Kisi ka pyaar lele Is saare zamane mein yehi pyaari baat hai There's a ring to her voice matching what's playing on my mind It is very simple: I am floating. In a trance. Our RoutinE. Simple yet profound. Completes me. A smile, a cap to all my fears, an excitement to face all our tomorrows, together I sleep well at night, the little joys of life You bring them to me with you It is as simple as breathing easy As simple as a deep slumber As simple as smiling for nothing As simple as having faith Yehi pyaari baat hai It begins with you. ❤
Backstory
I read, and read again to realise I don't remember don't remember what made made me write them lines them lines, thoughts, stories I share, sparing key details there surely was a backstory.. there's once I talk about a calm and once a voilin makes it way into what is here and there in my lines, they bind what I mean soundly, then, now, I wonder where and how they flew in this isn't the case every time, though there are beautiful compositons needled with one thread one thread of thought weaving multiple weaves, weaving thick and thin anyhow, this takes me back I read, and read again to realise I don't remember don't remember what made made me write them lines a few lines, thoughts and stories I shared, recently, which I am sure have a backstory...
Is she free?
being free free of worries I wonder what it takes to be free is it, not having anything to lose? or, is it, being very aware of one's attachments? aware in the sense of being selfless selfless in such a way that nothing binds in a way that one is a conduit through which memories pass being free free of worries I wonder if one can really be really be, when one is attached very attached to an idea of she or, is it a freedom that fades with knowing a knowing that spreads around is it lost the moment it is found? is being in a bubble free-ing? what is this paradox of binding that frees all worries worries that has one bound? free vs bound, nah not as simple as it sounds it is a mind maze for sure and lo, the 2 o'clock bell resounds!
Of drugs and the like
Where is the independence of the mind? Stoicism. That's what people sought years ago. I wonder why and how it has lost all faith, today, in itself. In staying strong. In fighting off, the quick sand of thoughts Too much consumption. Too much self. Too much stress on who one is. Traditional thought was we together. Us. Simple. Subtle. Strong. Or is it a history of winners? Saying they fought all? Where is the independence of the mind? I hope it surfaces and isn't lost.
In Parts/Together = One Story.
Deep, pained At the same time Very calming More like the dawn Of a new meaning Weighing down on it Making it serious Nearing a finality, a full stop A music peice on violin. Pale blue, sleeves rolled up Sitting gorgeously On his broad chiseled chest Complimenting his fair skin His warm smile The white of his perfect teeth Everything tied well By the twinkle in his deep Deep brown eyes The only man in her life. A calm, a contentment Now returned After a short absence In breathing In thoughts No matter what lays ahead The knowing A knowing all one needs A calm gently reminding Of the who and the where One is She, who is happy in her heart. All parts of one story. Whole in themselves. Tied by promise.
A People Timeline
I've been going over all the people, I've known closely, from a distance bonded with or had differences each person a thread in the rope of my consciousness my social consciousness ever-growing stretched tight, colourful wearing off at places strong at some at times strength replaced over something too weak whereas, some wears and tears leave Shuls of what was - sweet memories, bitter thoughts all making up the rope I use to guide myself forward an organism of a timeline of my social life
No complains
Count your blessings they say There's value to the saying What's ahead is ahead of us There's no challenging it today Whatever is today, lighter or heavier Is today and now Count your blessings they say I did. I have no complains.
