Out of the Mist

Since we reach the age of understanding things, we think that feelings and concepts (undefined to us yet) that exist for reasons whatsoever, they should complete their purpose – perfection – which is impossible for a human to do. We are full of mistakes, we are uncertain, others expect a lot from us, and we can’t be everywhere. That is us trying not to disappoint them, and in doing so, we lose control of time – the unit of life. Love, Time, Death – the most important phenomenon in life. We feel for others, and we  love them in our unique ways. Soon the Time passes very quickly, and then you think of death – leaving everything behind. Just some moments before the death, you think of all the things you have done and for what?  So, right at this moment, when you are alive, living the life you only think of doing the right things, the right decisions that will lead you to not regret in that last moment of your life.  Focusing on what is that we have ...

The wind was getting stronger, And the prints were too ragged, The hope was fickle, so were odds, And hapless soul was too shagged, Deaf, blind and a monk naked, As pure at heart as diamantine, The sun was raging and sand agitated, Burning at heart searched for divine, The shadows were raging and alive, And prints were lost in storm of time, The wind was wild, with a mirage in sight, And digs too seemed like a hard climb, Hope was fading, the vision was blurred, He prayed to Lord, not to be turned, The Soul of the world he said he earned, He got robbed, brighter he burned, A hand entered his frame of vision, He looked up to the ray of light, The soul shattered, so did my dream, There I sat, cogitating all night! Credits; Lake Minnewaska Photo Gallery

The world is a pit! Consider me a cynic, bitter and hostile if you want but the truth is, we all are just fuel of the world. I come, I live, I go. I don't get to choose my origin, I am where I am supposed to be. I live by the rules of my origination. I am the self, I am imagination. I am all, I am none. I once thought I am not just a fickle flame that can be put out by a gust of wind. The origins don't matter, what matters is the act of a man. An act is what defines me. But you may disagree. Well disagree all you want but the whole point of life is based on disagreement. You and me! We can't be a mirror image. You may not like my origin, you may hate my environment, you may disagree with my whatever comes out of my mouth, and you definitely can disaccord with my perspective on life, still, it is my life. Credits; The Work of Marti Belcher I met this aged, ragged and all wrinkly like a crumpled piece of paper. The poor old man was coughing the ceiling off. Rainin...

Moments of Weakness was an effort to remeber the moment of Deja Vu. When you think you are living the moments and then its gone, but that exact moments shows the significance of the meeting, which is Simple, Pure, Illuminating and Honest to death. As the Night grows old, A corpse rots in bitter cold, But the stars are wide awake, Above the cursed lake, Still! There I stand, With hand in hand, It’s about time to choose, Who I want to lose, Oh! Sweet haunting past, Beloved mine, whom I lost, Or the future thee, Oh! Bitter glaring thee, Darkness that’s glowing inside, Light that’s brought by the tide, The decision can’t alone be mine, While the chalice is still full of wine, The corpse is too gentle, With a touch, so parental, I dare not refuse, With a lot to lose, I miss the ruse, The songs, the blues, The stars are awake, And night grows old, Let’s go take our last howl at the moon, The corpses may not meet again so soon!