Thoughts try to find ground in the head
They find quicksand instead
They strive for some tangible form
To fit in some societal norm
But experiences of the past
Make the confusion last
They scatter like leaves in the wind
Thousands of forms burst and rescind –
It’s also a miasma of feeling
A jealous concealing
Of the brain’s inability to choose
And the heart’s inability to lose –
That feeling coalesces with thought
The only form that’s brought
Is a hurricane of emotion
Atop an intellectual ocean.
Circles of wind driving through grey
Like feelings that won’t stay
In circles of vapour they go
Churning everything in their flow –
The waters beneath trying to reason
Seems sadly like treason
Within their darkest depths they know
They will forever battle so –
The wind of thought shall never ease
Over vast emotional seas
None can understand completely
This unstructured philosophy
That finding for thought an outline
That tagging an emotional sign
That this itself is foolishness
That form in essence is formless
There are all kinds of words
That many people say;
But these are the words that squeeze my heart:
“Goodbye, I am going away.”
For with them comes a bittersweet feeling
That those who love undergo;
And sometimes smiles are caught
Within many a tear’s undertow.
As you step out to venture
And learn and see and sense,
There is always the hope for you
To live a new experience.
But, with it, there are hearts that ache
To see you leave this shore;
And a hope that pervades a home
That you shall return to its door.
So, on this trip, that you make,
To see the wide world and learn,
Remember, that there are hearts you leave behind,
That are waiting for your return.
(written for a friend who is going abroad to study)
Disintegration of thought,
Like a whirlwind upon mist.
Destiny grows stark and vaguer.
It’s something despair kissed.
The world shrinks to a point of light,
In an eddy of life’s utter doom;
Panic raises its terrible wings –
The blame lies ultimately on whom?
Thought has shattered,
Pinioned under those terrible wings;
Destiny and despair coalesce,
Turning into demonic things.
They rip, shred, rape every molecule
That prods an upturned lip;
While the last of light dies,
As panic breathes in its last sip.
The wind rattles sanity.
It is rattling away still…
Bare eyes wide, wide in the dark –
Now it is just the question of Will.
4th April 2009
I would not call this Happiness.
I would not call this Joy.
I can call this Realisation
Which Time cannot destroy.
This State of resting in Quiet –
With no battles in Thought;
This State of Being, quaint and calm,
Which Time itself has wrought.
Quiet moments filled with Wisdom,
Mingled with Memory,
Create this quaint smile, calm the heart,
Freeing the essence of Me.
Sometimes Doubts laugh – as is their wont –
But Experience sings
In my ear, unmasking these Doubts
As vain, trivial things.
All that is meant as Destiny
Shall be what finally stays;
Then matter not cold, moonless nights,
Nor vacant sunless days.
I have given up before.
Then risen again.
I had given up again
And somewhere out of the pain
Came the resurrection.
The belief is not that everything will be okay.
The belief is different now.
I understand what the trick is.
It is all a fait-accompli.
I surrender to You:
God, Destiny, the Powers That Be.
I believe whatever will be, will be.
So in knowing that I have loved
And, oh, so ardently,
I have lived and seen happiness.
If things are not a constant
Why do I cringe and weep?
Why do I lament the loss of things that were never mine?
Did I even think Life would best the rolling of Time?
Then happiness is relative and fleeting.
I should perhaps make most of our meeting.
I tried to steal happiness from mundane souls,
When all I had to do was give up on it.
Doing so made me happy.
Happiness, I find, cannot be bought.
A grey man once said, I was meant to live this life,
And that, I believe, is an encouraging thought.