The best way to know the self is feeling oneself at the moments of reckoning. The feeling of being alone, just with your senses, may lead you to think more consciously. More and more of such moments may sensitize ‘you towards you’, towards others. We become regular with introspection and retrospection. We get ‘the’ gradual connect to the higher self we may name Spirituality or God or just a Humane Conscious. We tend to get a rhythm again in life. We need to learn the art of being lonely in crowd while being part of the crowd. A multitude of loneliness in mosaic of relations! One needs to feel it severally, with conscience, before making it a way of life. One needs to live several such lonely moments. One needs to live severallyalone.

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

LIVING AGAIN THE YESTERDAY

Taking a side, heading a day,
Having a longing for the yesterday
When, again, I talk to me,
Morphing the soliloquy of me into we
The night falls, the day prepares to call
The night roars, the day whispers
The straight bars still changing angles
The roars, the whispers, and their confused jitters
Their desperate war cry to tread-off some solace
At the cost of loosing identities; getting some place
Slowly comes the high when all dazzles, and all is seen
The horizons melt, the bounds sublimate, setting the pace
The night and day, now tucking at the bay
I loose all, the night and the day,
When I plunge into this fall,
Out of bounds, taking the side, heading the day,
Now, in my own way
The unusual becomes the real,
When the ethereal becomes the surreal,
When the bars fade-in to come in a circle,
My words find their place, fed with my Soul
When you come to sit with me,
Words make a free fall and silence only speaks
I run again to loose me in that sublime whole,
When I talk to me, gone beyond this life,
Floating in the depth of the melted thoughts,
Drifted apart, drifted alone; getting the parts, creating the whole
The harmony of the silence gets louder,
The Soul stops seeking all, the flow gets wider,
There comes the moment,
Where I sublimate, away from all,
There remains just the soliloquy of we,
Lost in my absurdity, tanned with my words
Washed ashore on the riverine bed of the whole,
Cruising along the unsung song,
When creeps in the painful moment,
Where the journey back to this life begins,
Throwing me into the chasm of lost moments of the night
The Soul remains, but the flow is frozen,
That odd entity, the sleep, comes in its oddity,
The bars resume their dangling,
Crawling again with their rumbustious angling
The day falls, hopefully, for the night to call
Passing a day, living again the yesterday..

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