'I went to a strange hill
Grassy...woody...with tunes filled...
Met a man there...o what a fluteplayer was he!
Pressing fingers on holes
He just stirred the montains and their souls...
At one point I felt as if
The whole world had nothing in it
But only a restful deep
In which every thing could be tamed to sleep...
Believe me nothing jarred
Not a noise could there be heard...
Even those trees and hills and the flock of sheep
They also made no sign...
Restlessness there I couldn't find...
And...surprisingly I also adjusted
To the silent ways as kept...
I also lost gradual...
The graph depicting my rise and fall...
All those systoles diastoles
Echo cardio records of my past...
All...all I lost...
And...as leaves fall onto dust
And mingle with the fertile earth...
I also embraced death...
And the death...had been so glorious-
That wish I die that every moment which pass...
And be born again the next...
Finding life in a perfect context...'
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
On being lost...
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The State Funeral
At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut, She could not have spoken for The rare award, The police have done the th...
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That boat of Madhu the boatman Is left tied at the ghat of Rajganj No one is taking it As it is filled with jute raw; If they would give... -
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What had made Brahm to compose Such a tune, with such poise? What comforting idea made him To put music into such a rhythm? What inexpre...
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