Our troglodyte ancestors watched the night skies as we watch them now,

their caves within us differently.

They watched them
even before they learnt to ignite a fire.

through you, through me.
We look at those same nights

We both
sat by the frozen pond

between the thick fogs of our feelings
We watched the crescent moon glide

quietly on the  icy mirror like a fugitive
Didnt we find much more in the smallness of that pond
than on the infinite limbs of the sky.

The moon ever drawn to water,
made the fog between us thinner. Feeling, less strangers ,than when we met.

Couldn't see that someone
who threw basketsfull of stars
the night got sublime.

The night was on your face
The night moved
And your parted lips held
the thin moon light.


We look at those same nights The night moved from your eyes.
From your hair to your hands.

Shadows paraded like desires
searching secretions from warm cracks, secreting warmth in a language only bodies understand.

And language melted from our bodies
The same night on your mouth was the same on my face

Bodies closening in eagerness
silence became unbearable moans
We plunged frenzily into each other before we drifted away.

And we hid each other in each other souls.
Keeping our secrets.

Fall in love with your day
Take it by the hand and consciously live each new experience it offers you
Become one with it's beauty
Carry it delightfully. Drape gloriously each element that radiates from it
Go further and gather yourself in its peace and rest
So that when you wake up you will still be Fragrant
To fall in love again
Today, tomorrow and everyday.

Words define us in a precision
even when the tightness in our throats won't pronounce it.
Our stubborn refusal ' to see ', moves in us in circles,
fearing that we might not rise again from where we collapsed,
not seize the realisation in the solitude when we fall out,
when we fall out we fall out painful from having loved.

We have lost us,
Lost us away from friends,
families
trying to be what we are, a thing that family won't let it happen.
All wé have is to turn to is what
We call our wounded animals
we carry within us to cry.

We howl our way to survive.
Hoping whatever has been torn violently apart will have stand out once more of whatever is left in Love's name.

Kabir 1440 - 1518.

Do not go to the garden of flowers 
O friend ! go not there, 
In your body is the garden of flowers..... There gaze on the infinite Beauty.

 Kabir 



Kabir, i've  tried  listening to you
Your words are still shinning, they never stopped....

Your deep enthralling wisdom -- an antidote
for those like us in our toxic world

Somehow I cannot receive it, it evades me.
I cannot ask you to teach it
If not i'd have already learnt.

Too many have spoken.
So much has been spoken
Love, God, Brotherhood, Peace
are words we have turned upside down in all possible ways.

Have we not exploited their meanings in every possible ways.

We have lived on language, thrived on its politeness,
We still live in a world, some what similar.


Hitler laughed politely with his friends,

politely, he barred the sheets of paper, too long ...too long 'quick..the final solution' he said ... exterminate. Exterminate. Men .women and children buried where they stood.
'Too banal' he thought ' a waste of time to keep the scores!'
He stopped to bother.

So he just killed them by communities,
country by country.
All, while politely talking with friends
eating caviar and olives over a glass of apperitifs.

Hitler reinvented murder, with gadgets, salutes, national anthems.

Kabir, how do we talk to these guys.
How do we talk to ourselves?

Kabir, so beautiful are your words....to touch them we have to touch them with our hearts.

Your beautiful mind
is all i've got to help me
forget the greed,
the murders, the murderers ,
the cruel, the cruelties ,
the destroyers, the destructions.

Kabir, Thankyou for helping to keep my spine straight,
By this warm fire where I sit
gathering my heart around you
To listen.

 
This road of silence and bridges of words
has always been mine
for travelling.

After miles of silence
i don't know how far i 've trudged
to rescue myself
from my failures,
misunderstandings , unreconciled emotions,
death anguishes
and upheavals.

Sometimes, i cross others
who have overtaken, walked ahead or came from the opposite sides of the road.
this is the road of silence where we
heal from the madness of life.

this is the road of silence
they 've taken as i, for the right reasons or the wrong urges
Tired of our devils and angels arising
from life's trauma.
We mend our heart on this generous roadside air
by reading the scriptures on each day's horizon.

And, at times ,
salvation comes with meanings, words
came like rain,
in small showers of relief.

And we stood up from where we collapsed, embracing the euphoria
in our pains.

Thankful for the gift of words.

Thankful that each word
kissed our lips like a lover.

When carbon hardens -- it became diamond.
but when the heart hardened -- it became dead.
where is your diamond my Heart
who will be your lover on this road.

this is the road of silence.

This is a road of long silences ,

and,  no one knows where he is till the right word shines
like a lamp,
like an answer,
like a safe zone for the night -- so that we
don't have to hang on to our disgraces
till we
are diverted from whatever diverted us from our
dignity
A dignity -- we retrive from where we had absconded it.



This is the road of silence, and you've to take it
your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters,
your friends and lovers
are helpless
Its your  ghost of solitude
It gives you your death call , and howls
like Munch's painting,

Only Issa, only Basho
sat calm in their winters
breaking ice for their tea,
knowing , no tea leaves would tell their future.

Drinking their tea 

they moved on
writing their Haikus.

these warriors armed with poetry
reach out for the highest aims.
with
the little flame in their bodies
barely enough to hold themselves
out of the darkness
holding the lights together
where no sun could ever come in.





Every Haiku written,

tight, under a tug of words,

Every Haiku
a new anointement,

a little light spilled
a little bleeding from the soul, a finger pointing the star in the sky,
a cherry tree at midnight blooming ,
a beautiful victory.

 

For a long time i dug almost into
everything

To get hold of what they called the 'soul'
i dug stones, fallen leaves, old bones, ancient memories
with the spades of my thoughts i dug, i dug.
i dug the stones and silence

i kept digging
i dug through my years
year after year
i dug through dictionaries,
through voices that were mine
and through voices that were'nt mine

i dug through my revolt
i dug through the pain
through the roots of pain
collected a few laughter
a few fragments of freedom

Felt-- i was all
as much as i was nothing

i dug through my crimes, my fears, my guilt ,
my anger , my remorse and shame
to find if there ever was a God looking
A God -- whom i'd meet eye to eye
before i die -- catching glimses
of this thing called ' soul'.


i looked through every window
where they told me you could see Love.
And if you did -  you could see God
And if you did-- you could see this ' soul thing'.

i looked through the window of love
kissed it , drank it

sometimes what love was,
Was in a woman
Was on a leaf on a tree
Was in the pains
within my
own chest as the knives of solitude
ravaged through

This soul was me
This soul was not me
i wish i could ask
but those who died would not speak



With empty palms i begged the sky
if like a coin it could fall into my cup

then nothing.

A butterfly came , sat,

and happily flew away

something smiled
made me smile
and everything stood still for a while
in that smile

Inside
a circle of silence
a tree drinks from the darkness
a light moves through my blood

We loved
then , what were words??

we loved
with tender mouths

ferociously
licked everything.

even more sweeter
than the other

Explored, searched everything beneath the skin
and bodies

Found, pieces of paradises in
each exhaustion

i 'll keep memories

my hands beneath your skirt
on the patch of heaven
smeared with love

small, but big enough to fill forever.

Each night has its perfect body.

Beautiful --- the night sky.

Your delicate limbs on this soft bed
smelt good as life

Your face ached with love

Your moans -- small moans
were pure songs , pure notes

Let the day-break  come slowly
then , you must go
And i will not see you again.

some random thoughts

 Fall in love with your day.

the universe feels more like a feeling than a thought.

without the heart you can't harvest the wheat of humanity


what i thought was real was a dream, perhaps a nightmare
and what i thought to be dreams was real...am i a freak?

History slides from skin to skin
from our parents to us
agglomerating, the fibres of our supra galactic brain.


we smell their lives

flashes and fragments of ourselves lost
in them,
recovering something, that was left undiscovered


we smell their lives

suspended
like early morning wet hay,
mushy by the countryside.

Like babies
who 'smelt' their mother
Love becoming
the binding odour of their paradise.

birthing a consciousness,
even more of  that love could become or unbecome.


Everything -- learnt and recalled
standing on this planet.
a dot-- in the universe
We-- a nano particle of its vastness.

our consciousness-- larger than its container
holds both -- the universe and us.
in a space ever expanding where measure is preposterous

We point these telescopes
of our consciousness into the amaranthine,

exploring the latent.

we delve
into mysteries
deeper than the pulls of black holes

without enough words to explain them.

Psyche fixed microscopes,
we disects furthur into the intelligence of our tissues and cells
to catch life at its inception
the chapters that are'nt in the bible

to catch-- where every holy book was written from
from its silence.

Resilient
and obedient to how it opens us

instinctly, as any bud would, configuring its own survival
conceding,with fully open petals
the fullness of
the engorging light
that feeds us.

Autumn's cold hands has a fire,

a fire
sets colours in almost everything
it touches in the forest.

Not a single leaf on the tree is the same.

Life knows
how to fit sufficiently into every molecule,
into every body.
never too large, to shed out the excess
never too small, to keep each little function breathe

Everyday, i try and escape a little
from the society, from the government's plans for my life
to keep an essential part of freedom.

just a little disobedience
to listen to other things in life
than just being useful.

We all come from somewhere, in different shades and sizes
but breathe the common air.

what we possess , we carry in our hearts and heads
till we'll empty like baggages once
our travelling done.

our faces shall be remembered
by the love we've carried in it.
Love-- the only thing
that transmutes our ugliness into beauty
imperfections into completeness

Love leaves us contingent... for ugly faces to become beautiful

When you have forgotten what kindness resembled
How can you expect the universe to be kind to you.
When you have ceased to love,
Would you recognise it  even as it passes so close to you.

My notebooks are full of sorrow.

each word i write
i write on the mist that appears

before a new sky opens.


where someone once came and sat
just like me
looking for the next word.
where someone once prayed
from his solitude
before he became a bird.

i sit
i sit with my words
my sisters of freedom.
And listen to what they tell me.

when there's no where else to go
there's still a quiet place in the arms of the night.

My words take me
to sit here
in the same place as yesterday
to displace the light in the moonlight.

a letter made from silence
is all i've got for you now

but,
if i could see clearly
through this profound silence that surrounds me
i could tell you how i spend my days.
Its been a long time since i've seen your face

Autumn is here,
and the early morning
is still on my pillow.

to a free people -- Tribes and Natives of America

What is man without the beasts? For if all the beast were gone, man would die of a great loneliness of the spirit.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/c/chief_seattle.html

What is man without the beasts? For if all the beast were gone, man would die of a great loneliness of the spirit.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/c/chief_seattle.html

What is man without the beasts? For if all the beast were gone, man would die of a great loneliness of the spirit.
Read more at:

' while i stood there i saw more than i could tell
and i understood more than i saw....'

'...a people's dream died there,
it was a beautiful dream'....

                                        black elk



this is what we have (had)
this is what they want.

they don't want us to think
so they can keep us stunted; and stupid

They want us impoverished
by keeping us dependent , slaves
to our needs created through the wrongs beliefs
of all that they determine that as good for us.

We were gloriously self sufficient

but , making us insufficient
they've scrambled our brains.

They want us 'never good enough'
'not suitable for freedom'
thus program our systematic destruction.

They  divide us, scatter our children,
our songs, our culture
snatched our lands, demolished our environments.


They have created vocabularies; to shut us dumb to our own thought paths.

rules; to stay obedient, unopposing
-- sure, that we won't resist.

They have told us to be careful
so that the tigers and lions of our imaginations might not
devour us up.

They belittle us, in humiliation-- look disgraceful
they trample our soils with blood and screams
of our sisters , mothers , fathers , brothers,
....our children.

they blasphame our rivers
kill our buffalos
eradicate our forests to bring in 'the civilisation'

Civilisation - we learnt later was synonymous;
to scheming, treachery, breach of honour, and wars.

They took from us what was'nt given.

destroying us in every indescriptable ways.


They want us not healthy; and fearless
as once we were
fearing, our strength might push us; to revolt.

They tag us , number and secure us
to tie us to their system
through bondage; they control , they trace , they track
as we were their animals.

they control what we eat , and what we shit....


they want us crawl, and keep crawling
till we wont remember what it is to stand up.

so we could never strike upon the idea
of what we should'nt let them make of us,
of our rights.

They make us sign
they make us participate in obscure plans
in obscure ways
misleading us
to believe
that we're creating our new destiny in their versions of Democracy.

They have given us to think
that they have delivered us with privileges
Woe to us --the saddest truth
we're reduced to less ans less of what we are.

They took away everything
when they took away our land our language, our magic, our ceremonies
and offered us a new religion,
new god, new country.

They make sure in every ways we'll never escape from their hold.
But, our forefathers voices still sing loud enough
for us to dance our way to death embracing the Great spirit.

Gathering the rainbows on our feathers,

We die;
untamed, wild and free.

this joy bursts out of my chest

as if a million aches have gone.

this lightness of being freed.

i cry, i weep.

a dam has broken

i am a river again

and i shall brim the banks

and find my way to the silences of the forests.

Though you see -- is partial
the whole moon is still out there....



Our language wraps us
unwraps us, our faces and skin.

It's not about words
but about what you
open with your words
the world, its contents, and
every little  flavour of it
is held under the silence of your tongue
on the tongue of your spirit
before you release it
through a breath
giving life a song
or a sword

to sing your spirit
or to wage your wars

i pick up one from
the scent of my memories
from the breastmilk of my mother
from the safe soothing lullabies
she hummed
while i knew nothing else of this world

Language is
what i use
from what has drifted me away to come back
to you.

01/10/2016

Cautious , my friend to want so much
Your want to improvise the earth so much
should'nt end up
not having a healthy patch of grass left underneath your feet.


 Be cautious my friend,
be cautious before your ardous claims
about how you've conquered and surpassed
what the careful lights have taken lightyears to build

The universe, it does'nt need you
You need the universe.
Your environment does'nt need you
You need your environment.

Your environment has nurtured you,
conserved you,
carried you from generation to generation

till you were
where you are.

Certain things
have taken millions of years to settle down, find an autonomous way of functioning
after explosions and implosions
it has found a life of its own.

Your curiosity my friend is a good thing
but to dabble a million years of contributions and its memory
is'nt without consequences, unless you already have the know-hows of accomplishing it.

Has'nt the human being and his consciousness  sprouted from the Earth
then don't place your consciousness above that of the Earth.
look at things cautiously
without being tempted to transform it beyond the repairable.


i'm not being grim,

but Remember,
we might be able to live through the intelligence of nature

Have'nt we sought nature through our intelligence, now, look around and ask yourself how far has it taken you...
 how close you're to your own extinction.

whatever you call truth
is ultimately an idea of what you think it to be
but
what it is -- it is
whether you've an idea of it or not

So be cautious my friend when you kick at the temple of life created by the light of the sun , moon and stars
by the air, water and dust
you could be kicking at your own guts.

Be cautious my friend
protect your environment
as it has protected you.

17/9/2016

This evening
a piece of the sky fell into the ocean
in white velvet and blue silk.

it was so beautiful to see
the waters receive
every little drop of light

i say
this is what makes me live
this is where i stop
to breathe

To the Passers of light

To the dying Buddha-- the disciple asked
what is enlightenment

And the Buddha sighed....

Hush,

....Have'nt i walked with you... sat with you,... ate with you, ...laughed with you...
sang with you.

My time is up and i m leaving, and all you find is a stupid question to ask.

Drop it , brother, please drop it.

take my hand , just sit here besides
and see me through.


 §§§§§


Pssst
Someone came as darkness fell
and Golgotha wept like never before.....

What happened,
how did you get up there . All these idiots around your cross nailed you at 33.

2000 Years later
this someone came again, saw you there in the midst of the meadow
found you

Has anything changed...2000 years?
have they understood what you've said??

They are around your crosses more than ever
your crosses brought and sold everyday
and i can't tell you what the turnover is like

but i sure can tell you they 've made you the Boss
of the richest empire on earth.


§§§§


La ilaha illallah

Mohamed, verses came to you in the moonlight,
You fasted
the food you ate was'nt food
you wanted light that lit all the lights

The water you drank was'nt water
You wanted the source that quenched all thirst.

Then, you could sweeten,
 sweeten the heart of Humanity with the sweetest thing than any human
could dream of


You found it, You gave it.
-- the door to paradise
-- the keys to the oasis of God.

Now Look...
look brother, what these butcher's make of Islam.
soiling your verses with blood and hatred,
blindening, those who look at your moonlight.

&&&
Om namo namah
Narayana.  Pranamam Brahma.
Har hara Mahadeva.
The Advaitha mantra never leaves out lips.
We wash
wé drink
we purify

We purify everything but out hearts.
With all the gangas and yamunas
We wash and we wash.
Life long we wash..till we wash our dead.
Wé float out lamps but our darkness
Never left us.
Where is your Gangotri Oh Shiva.

14 years or 40,000
Hey Ram, how long will you have To stay in exile.

To the Passers of light

To the dying Buddha-- the disciple asked
what is enlightenment

And the Buddha sighed....

Hush,

....Have'nt i walked with you... sat with you,... ate with you, ...laughed with you...
sang with you.

My time is up and i m leaving, and all you find is a stupid question to ask.

Drop it , brother, please drop it.

take my hand , just sit here besides
and see me through.


 §§§§§


Pssst
Someone came as darkness fell
and Golgotha wept like never before.....

What happened,
how did you get up there . All these idiots around your cross nailed you at 33.

2000 Years later
this someone came again, saw you there in the midst of the meadow
found you

Has anything changed...2000 years?
have they understood what you've said??

They are around your crosses more than ever
your crosses brought and sold everyday
and i can't tell you what the turnover is like

but i sure can tell you they 've made you the Boss
of the richest empire on earth.


§§§§


La ilaha illallah

Mohamed, verses came to you in the moonlight,
You fasted
the food you ate was'nt food
you wanted light that lit all the lights

The water you drank was'nt water
You wanted the source that quenched all thirst.

Then, you could sweeten,
 sweeten the heart of Humanity with the sweetest thing than any human
could dream of


You found it, You gave it.
-- the door to paradise
-- the keys to the oasis of God.

Now Look...
look brother, what these butcher's make of Islam.
soiling your verses with blood and hatred,
blindening, those who look at your moonlight.

i'm not telling you what to do
You're not telling me what i must do

Whatever we do we are doing together

each chewing our mouthful of bread
and laughing

The happiness of this world is this simple
in which we've conquered

the light in the sky
and the beauty of this earth
the moon upon the waters

becoming
at once the part and whole of one, single, rejoicing

Listener, listen

what i've to say is'nt important
this silence here - is important

Silence is'nt talkative thats what they say
or else why would it be silence.

yet i know, when it talks, its a pit-pat , pit-pat, pit-pat..

it could be that rain thats raining....
it could be a wet leaf nodding....
it could be anything at anytime....

And i 'll tell you this is'nt logic
that's how it is.

Ah this silence

40 days in the desert Christ was listening
Alone , under a bodhi tree Buddha was listening
looking at the moonlight Mohamed was listening...
they all were listening silently to silence.

We 're here to be listeners  -  listening to Silence

Sadness could be turned inside out
Happiness could be turned upside down.

so listen....
Find out how prayerful it is

how many times i've seen it transfigure this world
You and with everything in it
from the speck of dust to the tall mountains

i've learnt so much from your words
but much more from the awe in your silences

Every elevation that elevate
every word that elevate
elevating even beyond the knowledge of that word
elevates  from silence
elavates from its sacredness

Gaze into it as much as you listen
like you'd do before a dawn
and let it fall into your ears
delivering the deepest secrets of this world.


ah this silence
listen
how God pours into you when silence pours into you

Silence is not bankrupt, its full of words
so different than in the books
you're emotional alphabets have been writing
so deeply , so deeply inside you all the time.

Listen, it's raining
i'm in the midst of nothingness

And, it takes so little to make things beautiful

Where i m is where i should be
to feel what i feel
So pleasant is the universe
This thrill, this joy given so freely to you

To you or anyone of you who would like to come out in the rain
Wet your faces and laugh
And in that laughter find out who you are.
Laugh till you are free

Each time it rains
You will laugh
Your insides will laugh
You have at last learnt to laugh with the Sky
This is what you are born for
For timeless laughter.

An open door --yes, i could be
Not quite open,  not quite closed

Half closed to the world
Half opened to you
If you ever come in
Come in as a petal of a cherry flower
as the first word on a branch of its tree
so awesome
so full of presence
Not uttering a single sound
Yet so much being said.

Come like a note in the midst of
the forest
Awakening it with a slow delicate swipe on the violoncello of your soul.

Come like a tender streak of light
that transforms Solitude into
Something extraordinarily beautiful.

Come
Come see me as how i am
so i could love you so deeply
So in my eyes you could witness the light of your own eyes.

The colour of today's Silence is dressed in white
i stare at you,
i stare at this purity you carry.

Is there something
something more to whiteness
that only whiteness could tell.

i don't know if its the pain that wont leave me
or
me who won't leave the pain.

To France , to your son's and daughters

France, Beloved to those who believe in brotherhood and freedom ,

Words mourn,
and i cannot talk of peace.

Silences have never been so heavier
Even the leaves on the trees won't move.

This pain
heavy as the wars that has been lived by every country
When the dead pile up like logs in winter
That fire alone can make them dance.

Human history has been so often written thus

How much of 'us' has been burnt into ashes. and how little has been left..

The same words the others read to implore to god

Transforms everything into hatred
Programmed to kill anything, and Anyone.

Books
no matter they say how sacred they are..... Kills God
When they kill humanity.

You cannot talk about the myth and Phoenixes to those whose children have fallen
For they know only very few  rise again from such a sorrow

The rest of the world might forget what they will remember
to the last days of their lives....
How ' a moment ' frozen
can freeze the rest of your life

This is 14 July 2016, south of France

France, i feel what you feel
what every soldier parading the Champs de Mars will feel
under the bouncing of their feet.

The night held the full moon
like a white rose in its hand

while my forefather's anguishes
climbed out of my bones
God's words are as silent as this moonlight that pours
in whispers.
Those who called
called God
as though they knew where he was
whereas i ve only the moonlight to guide me out of my darkness

Beloved, Step into this river.
We could drink our solitudes for tea
and leave the biscuit crumbs on
the table clothes of each other's skin
Pecking at them
with lustful beaks of our minds.

Ungloriously
we shall look at the dying sun.
Consoling the scars we carry .

The scars that has been
And those that will never be.

The bitter taste of the known gnaws beneath
our tongues.
While our world mumbles in fear to deaf gods.

Nevertheless, the acuphene is only a hum that wont disturb
the music of silence,

Nor stop us being a lover again.

If we could look into the mirrors of our faces
and
watch the melting of the sorrows we deny.
And, In denial
we feel the stink in every god's shitpot.
And the leftovers of his paradise.

Remembering to forget
our last dance in the sand.

Let the winds take them away ....
the winds take away our sand dunes
into a forest
a forest growing in our hearts
growing out of our own myth and mystery .

So what
So what if hatred are the shoes in which we walk....

Screaming
blasphemy for philosophy.

What if we scream

we scream
from the sour rivers of our experiences.

So what if insanity laughs
it laughs in every crumb we ate.
And the bitterness now
numbs the babbling of our tongue.

So what if indifferences puts her arms arround our shoulders
drying the streams of life.

So what
if our open eyes suffocate in their blindness
before these beautiful landscapes
transforming canvases
drenched with wet paints of our pain.

Refusing to die
even when the walls of our ego fall upon us
in crushing piles
kissing the feet of the gods we have created
from
the hankering of our desires for heaven and immortality.

Step into this river
never to be the same again.

When memories have been washed away
our own godheads shall no more be a myth.

Our faces shall have their skin
made from the scintillating of Love.

From the endless to endless
we shall stay flowing.

From the nameless to silence
we shall sing our songs
and dance our dances.

The Beautiful shall no longer be a quest
but the emanation of our beings.

Our shoes
discarded by its uselessness, we will walk.

We walk barefeet in our souls,
and without wings we fly in our heavens.

The landscapes where we wander
wanders also our rivers

Thus,
Be witness to them
open  eyes.
And open hearts

For
it is'nt through the opening of our eyes  alone we
shall witness
our ungowning self.


Step into this river

the endless river of breath.
where the silences of Humanity
dare become words.

Words -- for which we fought and killed
Words --for which we knelt and kissed
because they were beautiful.

Words -- the ambassadors of Gods
who were there to remind us --of Ourselves.

but what have we remembered
and what have we forgotten.

Step into this river
this river of breath

so each breath
shall melt down our masks
unfold the faceless face
unfold as every flower.

Step into this river

Step into this river
within each heart

to flows
towards something , nothing and everything.

the springtime lurks out
the most beautiful perfume spreads into the nostrils of our soul

and
only one word shall name it.

'Love'!....

is that a word or its silence!


Step into this river

Love is more than a word created by silence
more than silence created by the word

as is the ever changing mirth
is on the lips of the Nameless.

Each day
invites us through its open doors
passing secrets only our emptiness can grasp....

translations only our silence can understand!

Be here then, with the river
endlessly flowing
towards the nameless.

The happiness that we seek -- is not god.

We are gods when we are happy.

Happiness is an inside thing
a flower
Love flowering.

The flowering of love
is God!
because there's no better word for it.

It does'nt come from our mere living
it does'nt come from our mere dying

it comes from our caring
consciously how it renders
life its preciousness.

Life or death won't make no differences.

Remember this
you are the very pulse of Life.

So beat in its awareness
as in God's own heart beat. 

All i have is this body

Within which i run ,i hop, i struggle
i hide, i play, i stay quiet, i wait.

my body
has its weather,
so it rains, gets sunny, cold ,warm.

it has its day and night
it has its seasons

it has
its landscapes, its music, a language of its own.

It has so much that i ignore how much.

But at times i'm attentive to it in a natural sort of way
that leaves me marvelling
at all the things happening inside,
some, in mysterious ways.

When i get worried it gets worried
when i smile it smiles.

The woods engorged with the faint early morning light
engorged as much with its silence
holds
moments
as pure as prayer,

holds
connections to the wholeness,
to life,
to beauty,
to doors opening to some kind of heaven.

i witness something uncoiling out of me, out of my body.

And, it goes quietly
through the stillness of things,

to watch and look out,
to greet other kind of silences....

silences of the flowers,
of the leaves, of the fields
of the stones, of the clouds,
of the water in the ponds,
careful not to disturb the ants,
the dragonflies on the reeds ,
the lazily floating frogs....

Then, it comes back and settles inside my body again.

i feel the freshness of every single thing it has visited,

it melts and becomes substances in my blood
giving me an understanding
how everything is so vast in its own ways
how everything is so inseperable, so inter-related.

i eat and drink this universe with my body.

A new light enters
Lighter than silence
Lighter than words

This morning is so overwhelming
This blue sky _ is really me

The wild wind tangles in her hair
The iris of her eyes
Drinks something that
the sun moon and the stars drinks

From the banks of an untamed ocean
she picks up wet pebbles
as though touching something we both lost a long time ago

In my hands a pebble burns
Like a souvenir when all the
Poems in the sky were ours.

Like a lover ,
the Silence of this morning touches me
with so much sweetness.

the light in the meadows
is the same light
dawning on my skin.

Distinctly, the flowers in the garden
are now
in my Silence

A holy Silence
a sacredness of which i can bearly speak

Anything that walks in or walks out
is holy
wordless,
and beautiful.

This brooding sky
i invite myself to it
The rocks, the waves , the thick clumps of trees,
stood together , as i in my stillness


Then , the night fell on our shoulders

that was seven years ago
i said i would love you as Spring
and forget you in Summer
i would watch Autumn pass
And the cold Winter freeze outside
And when Spring came
i loved you again.
Strange i was'nt like the others
Strange you were'nt like any other.

Now,
we don't talk to each other anymore.

You said, don't waste your time, don't call
i called , you did'nt answer

the sadness did'nt kill me

through the memories i love you
through long silences i love you

Spring is alive as ever
i m silent i m alone.

breath is a two fold path
from you -- to the world
from the world -- to you

This relationship is a journey
from a point A you call birth
to a point B you call death

You can divide and subdivide
add and multiply
but
A thud regulates it
it regulates the thud
This music will go all along your life
till the day the song ends
the coughs, the wheezing, the apnees
and all the inbetweens to catch up

Fast pace -- when joy or angered
slow pace --  when sad or depressed

Five thousand years ago
Patanjali pondered
wondering
what the hell to make out of it
the prana, the pranavayu, he said..Pranayama
thats it -- the sutra
the harnessing key
vital body,vital breath
ida, pingala, sushama
tantra mantra yantra

niyama

he locked it, held it , released it
he sucked it, blew it , whistled it
he stood like a tree, a cow, a lion
stable like a chair and a table

in eighty four ways he twisted, tangled, untangled

placed mindfulness to meditate inbetween

And thats how he died
teaching the system

in -- we live
out-- we die
in -- we live
out-- we die
sohum, soohummm, soooo hummmmm
some bearded fart made it an art
millions others a religion
and Baba Ramdev made mostly the money.
oh what else , Patanjali.

Ode to Francis of Assisi

Hello skinny brother, hello belly full of the sacred, hello to you who wants to eat the impossible,
What a joy to see you.

Ah, Francis,
less courageous people like me can only admire you and your madness --Madness that kept you sane.
Madness -- your quickest ladder to heaven.

All your life you waited
 for god.

You waited so much that sometimes you wondered if he really saw you.

Your stubborness paid.

You hugged that cross for so long
that he could'nt take it away.

so he let you keep it.

You kept it so close to you , it got  fused into your body,
The wood, and the nails, grew out of your palms and feet

You  became a walking cross, nailed, twenty four hours a day to it .

the birds came and sat on your shoulders.
wondering what you were.

Those who followed you
followed you,
but
you followed your solitude,
the only place you were convinced
where God would meet you.


i look at you brother Francis,

i've been looking at you for years,
your ordinariness embracing life
beyond, every possible human being's understanding


i climbed  Mount Subasio this morning
hoping to bump into you.

just to see you pass.

Then a blue fog got in

i knew you were coming.

and You were there in those clump of trees
just where the sky had opened ,
the sun poured all its light,
i did'nt see anything except those beams of light
that was all i ever got to see of you -- just beams of light.

i never came to you to
learn about God

i came to you to watch
how silence talked to you
till every part of you oozed with light.

Then as you spoke the light kept spilling -- the stigmata

the five wounds,

five words filled you with heavenly fire
that only the birds, the animals, the forest , the sun and moon understood

the five words were the same as your five wounds
you said your words  over and over
till your torments rendered to peace

five doors through which your soul looked out

five canticles from which the doves flew into the moonlight

and then, the starlight fell into your palms
and your heart howled like a wolf to God


You became God's wolf.


sleeplessly you wandered in your solitude.


So,
God gave you
a stone

named Assisi

upon which
anyone who sat
could see how beautiful you were.

The daily passing light was your tattered gown

from your nakedness stood out the sun.
from your whispers -- the olive grooves.

You whispered all your life
to God

i hear you

mumbling,
" we're not erudites but god's paupers
 and to Poverty our sister we surrender..."

God gave Peter a rock
and ,
 " go and build my temple " , he said.

But you built yours in the open air,  right there
Where God came to sit in your heart.

a poem about writing

This pure land
is not yours , not mine.
this nourrishing hush gets into you.

let the world in
through your eyes
with only silence to drink

Others sees your stillness
having no idea of what going on inside

What came from the night and touched you
altered the stars
from their embryonic web

now that you see what was'nt there before

The birds in the poem i was about to write
flew away
into the glittering sky

if not for their idiotic chirping
i would'nt have noticed anything at all.

That's how i stepped into the poem

Without the slightest idea of what
would happen
or whom i'd meet

now that i was in the poem i realised
Noone had trodden here except for these birds


The poem was
thick -- with silence
White -- with three days of snow

the silence and whiteness
filled most of the poem

It might have turned oppressive
had'nt it  been for
the old maple tree
by the
frozen river
with just one leaf.

One leaf -- glimmering Orange bright
as though the sun had left behind - a piece of itself

And it lit the whole poem.

i hurried closer to the river
it was getting dark in the poem
The wind, getting really cold.

i followed my glance
and saw
the edge of the river
which
was'nt really the end of the poem

A slight drizzle began to wet the poem
so i ran quickly through its snowy fields

A gust of wind blew

blew the leaf out of the poem
if not i'd still have been in the poem.

i tried getting back
to look once more at the maple tree

but the poem had vanished


The late evening came in

i stood up to shut my bedroom window
when i heard a crunch beneath my feet.

i stepped on a leaf
it was brown.

Why jerusalem
Why can't you see through this once and for all
That no child, no woman, no man must die for so little

if centuries of hatred is tenacely put into the banks of your memories
Does'nt it frighten you of what might sprout out  from the embryons of your unborn generation.

Now that you've doing what Hitler did to you.
With what lips do you talk to God each morning
with what hands do you break  loaves for your children
how do you preach your wisdom


This dust wet with blood, trenched with tears,
i look at these charred date palms and olive grooves ....
is it a face
Is it your own God's face weeping