New Horizons

Soft jazz plays in the background. The night is cool, the wind playful, the air filled with the undiscernable shallow mumbling of various lovers. We are all together here but no one looks at each other. I carry the drink back to my table, smiling slightly, letting my gaze deepen-- my eyes, smouldering, intent upon the beautiful sight before me. As I sit with a hopeful sigh, I smile more widely at my love. Sweet memories bring us closer-- quiet nights, rainy days, late mornings, disturbed only by the thrumming of my heart, the gasps of heady breaths, the moans of boundless pleasure. I grasp the benevolent in my ever waiting hands and lower my lips, parting them slightly, only to breathe once before it all begins. And then it does. The creaminess of mayonnaise, it's smooth richness along with a thick  layer of cheese, at perfect harmony with the crisp, rough texture of my chicken parm. As my bite deepens, the sound of pure love escapes my body as it claims my soul, my thoughts ...

I like washing dishes. What I don't like is being told to do it. The idea of an over pampered, French speaking (kind of), self-proclaimed beauty reduced to soaping up dirty dishes infested with the salivated germs of the less worthy sapiens around her, disgusts me.  And yet, I secretly enjoy the sanctity of cleaning the unclean, coupled with the sensory amusement in the sound of the gushing water, the slippery feel of the soap and the purity of the gritty green sponge. It's almost fantastic, playing around with the soft, cloud-like foam, its many facets reflecting the bright light. The shine of stainless steel, the squeak of freshly cleaned glass is like the emergence of Aphrodite from the waves of the sea.  The perception of such chores as menial, manual labor is, in that meditative state, completely forgotten.  It is unfortunate though, as I wash my hands (twice!) with dermatologically tested "100% effective" hand wash and then proceed to moisturize them wit...

Clarity is an oddly selfish state of mind. Without the trivia of other beings, their lives and flaws, their happiness or unhappiness, our minds tune to their inner burrows of self-preserving bliss. It is then in that cavern that we see the crack of dawn, the rise of the sun, the faces of the moon-- all uninterrupted, undisturbed by the facets of ordinary human tendencies. We forget our qualms, our anxiety. We look instead, for our life's purpose.  However, if everyone lived in total clarity of thought, of their actions and their consequences, perhaps all would lead unjustly tedious lives. Or perhaps only then would the world truly become those of equals, of man and nature alike and truly be for everyone and everything?  Or would such clarity force some to lack empathy, leading to the destruction of everything we urge ourselves to forget for that moment of Clarity.  

Whisperings and soft speeches, blurtings and loud blunderings. But mostly whispering. They tickle my visible brain. Of whom do they utter and what, I ask. Whispering, madly away? Small, short breaths, a sudden intake of—small, short…shallow. Why now, to stop? I force my head to turn. No smile today, I see? Not today, says me. Long sighs, short breaths. Whispering again.  I look down at the muted words. But even text, it does deceive. Why so small, that I may not read? I am neon once again, glowing bright, subject of those whispering. Whispering,  madly away. 

As I listen to a soothing blue of Beethoven, his Sonata Di Luna , I recall those times I've allowed myself to slip into perhaps one of the quietest self I've ever been. Though the silence of my mind hinders the laughter of my crowd, there still is engrained a charm in that quiet, a charm which calls me back, again and again. And hence I write, after long, for it is here that I feel the happiest. It is very peaceful here, in this Silence of my mind Where all I wonder, is all that's heard And all my memories are the chirping of a bird It is very peaceful here, in this Silence of my mind Where all my reflections come without the wavy light And then the dots connect, all to my delight It is very peaceful here, in this Silence of my mind Where boasts an open sky to the pacific sea And amidst this I lay, my thoughts in blissful kind It is very peaceful here, in this Silence of my mind Where Bach observes and Strauss glows, And Chopin smiles at the Music which flows ...

I wonder of a world Oh so different from ours Where Black and White are the only Colours around I wonder of a world Run solely by logic Where emotion is a word Which is kept unheard I wonder of this world Where no crime prevails And madness not be deemed For these are actions of emotion Which remains unheard There will be no grey Just a 'this' or a 'that' There won't exist maybes Just yeses and nos There won't be conversations Nor wanderings of thoughts And then no expression, a lost art At those words alarming I fall out of my reverie I wince at the starkness Which black and white would bring For no emotion would keep My expression at bay In that world infernal Where all are merely told What and what not Where every man, woman and child Breathes blissfully the ignorance Of any purpose they have to live In fact with only order One would have no say What would one be then? Aimless yet tamed! Where that creator perches Atop t...

I walked along those memories of wood Stretching farther on the roads than they should Memories which clouded the happiness of today And filled my mind with bitter sweet decay Such decay of people I haven't long spoken Yet whose remembrance I have,  unbroken Where two roads diverged in the woods one day, I chose the one I had travelled to the Past's bay Not remembering the importance of now I walked along a path which had faded away somehow I was seized by its sadness, yet the thoughts never ceased I was seized by the memories, my own pitying disease Even my dreams, whose nights over due Managed to fill me with ever-hardened rue And hence I live on , in a world full of twos' One the present, and the past which couldn't do