Thursday, July 12, 2012


Strange is the love of man, his desires and longings. Would build him skyscrapers, but would long for the heights of mountains. Make a life around the brightness and hum drum of city life, but deep within his heart would ache for the quiet of the forest night, with only the buzz of the cricket and light of the fire fly. Strange it seems to me that man runs away from the very self it truly desires (and calls it progress). Search for the treasures which he can find only within himself. Lives in a fool’s paradise of a diseased body, which could have been his tool for enlightenment. What does he get in the company of pretentious friends, while his mind is away weaving thoughts of genuine smiles and utter innocence? He thinks spirits will relieve his pains, while his spirit longs to revel in meditative silence. Will he come home today? How long will the glitters flash his eye to blindness? How long will desires seethe his mind with ignorance? How long will ambition limit his being into a mere puppet?

So in the darkness of midnight, Pingala, the courtesan kept waiting anxiously for her lover. (Little did she know, it’s not long before she will meet her true beloved.) Her heart was livid with longing; her face was ghastly with agony. Her suffering was heightened by the confusion in her mind for the desire for money, lust or love. Like a picture of grief, she stood at the doorstep. Maybe it was then that she caught a glimpse of the futility of her ornamentation. Maybe it was this particular moment that her suffering was greater than any other suffering she had known. Her distress made her senses numb and her vision cloudy. It must have been a night darker than other nights; cause in the deepest abyss does one turn to the inner light. And her suffering most poignant; cause in the most agonizing point in time comes complete surrender.

In that precise moment, the tired mind, shunned all desires and looked to the sky. Her heart drew fresh breath blowing in new life in her. In that moment, she meets her true self. In that moment she learned to live. In that moment, she touches heaven. In that moment, she meets her beloved, inside, waiting for her.

" We build our entire life around our hormones." --- Sadguru Jaggi Vasudeva

Sunday, August 1, 2010


"Head unaware of feet,
and feet of head.
Neither cares. They keep turning.
This moment, this love comes to rest in me,
many beings in one being."

Thursday, July 29, 2010

The Music of Variance

"In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest where no one sees you,
but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art."

Meant to fly...

Couldn’t fly, in the blue blue sky…
Couldn’t see thru the naked eye…
Burned too hard, burned too long
Saw everyone burn along…
U can blame me, cause I didn’t try
Rushed to every light like a firefly.

But the sky in my eyes??
Don’t tell me it’s a lie…
Just a dream dat I saw…
With open eyes??

Sailed along on every ship…
Waited to get my soul ripped,
Feared every gentle drop…
Tamed every feeling dat cropped
Behind the crust my haven lies
All too high!! All too high!!

But the feather in my palm??
Glowing and calm!!
How could it get blown
Away in the winds unknown?

But now…

Can you take me through the door?
Make me see the untouched shores…
Can you show me a dream or two?
If you want I’ll hold it for you…
Had never seen a star so bright
Yet not blinded by its dazzling light
The sublimest of beauty lies
Here in my haven high…

Couldn’t tame the dreamer though
Even when the strongest currents flow
Embraces every slightest night,
To bring the alchemist to life…
Coaxing thru the lowest troughs
Finding its way against winds rough
Here in my haven high…
I realize we’re meant to fly!!

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I can dream no more...

My feet don't catch the rhythm at nights.
I don't spend the mornings transfixed on flowers.
I can finally tolerate the ways of the world,
And neatly toss away its hours.

They say I smile more and live more,
And rightly do they judge.
Cause in all its polity, I shunned my innocence...
A mask in my face I smudged.

I once had a song book,
From which i sang to myself beneath the moonlight.
Be with like minds form smiles to laughs,
And life flowed from those heights!
You may find that book in the darkest pit of my closet,
And the lonely guitar stands in a mourn.
Tethered, I foolishly look around the world before me...
Cause I don't sing no more...

I dare not question anymore...
till i become a sad painting on the wall.
Adamantly oblivious to 'living'...
Can you raise the dead by a call?

I fear being with myself,
I fear truth and its stare,
Dreaming made me love myself...
But I can dream no more!

Anusha :)