Finding meditative bliss

The emotions within are rearing their ugly selves into a lugubrious melody.
To listen with an attention to the throb of the sensations is an exercise in meditation, the sensations swell up, swim wildly, flushing vicariously and forming an atonement!

The sea within is ever changing it's state, the range it traverses can only be experienced, it's indescribable. A pilgrim doesn't react, only morphs into a silent witness and in that he finds a bliss, a bliss of a meta-physical kind.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before:
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word of a different kind...

- The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Brutality of time and lost words

Words are really not immortal, are they? With these thoughts, a child wakes up from a slumber. A slumber that took him to the end of a crevice, a crevice lost in time, a crevice dissipated in an agony. The agony was never understood by that child, probably, it was never to be understood. There are these experiences that one can never understand because they are beyond that. One may lavish adjectives after adjectives, use words, be clever with them, yet, the illusion of it all melts away!

Time with it's innate quality of being shatteringly brutal withstands any onslaught.
The child goes back to his land, a land where it's only him and his make-believe world which envelopes him with a bliss, a bliss meant only for him, that which an adult can only be wishful for!

Existential yearning...

To wake up in the morning, trying to keep the sun out not realising that the sun is unrelenting as unrelenting as time. The flower wants to crumble in the summer, the stalks which hold the flower, hold on to it, keep it from un-withering, keeping it afloat in the middle of their own design, a design they do not understand yet they carry on.

Such is the bitter sweet restraint of nature, it makes the flowers yearn to wither not realising that there is a greater design and it's a bit of the whole.

"So peaceful shalt thou end thy blissful days, And steal thyself from life by slow decays." - Homer

Refrain

A word has a multitude of meanings, however, the word in a context can change from it's original meaning to the meaning that context offers.
One such word, Refrain, it means to 'stop oneself from doing something'. The effects of a 'refrain' are everlasting, sudden, impactful, deep, shattering and depressive!

A child refrained from playing in the rains, his state of joy is crushed, it's trampled with a brutal insensitivity and he's left scarred. A refrain that should have been un-refrained! How he longs to go back in that moment and play in 'jocund company of rains'.

An old woman is refrained from entering her own house by her old man. She is left paralysed with shock, dejection, despair, loneliness and a sense of loss. Her 'refrain' leaves her with no choice but to accept the stern, deceptive emotion of happiness, security that she felt for the 'ephemeral' time!

I am more misery than I ever wanted to show,
And I understand when you turn away and go,
Oh life, Oh time,
the gritty grain of the same old verse,
leaving memories in an iambic metered hearse...

- Anonymous
 (is anything really that)

Children of the wilderness.

The sun is shining
Flowers are blooming
Cold winds have stopped
Darkness has dropped
Bit by bit
Step by step
Inch by inch
Tree of life is spiralling.
The birds chirp a melody
Carmine red paints itself through them
Their canvas is a sky.

Rip!
 What was that...?
A befitting tear cutting through the canvas.
Behold the broken wings of the birds..


Crash!
What was that...?
A sledgehammer penetrating the tree of life...
As it spirals down to its death.

Slash!
What was that ….?
The knife edge on his tattooed wrist.
The Carmine blood running down his slit.


Phew!
What was that...?
The deliberate wiping of sweat from her brow
As the wine she silently sips
With Carmine red painted lips.

Perhaps this is not the
Mood of the day.
Perhaps you expected something
Light and Gay.
But, hey
Never keep poetic license at bay.

The vehemence of darkness

Darkness has a sinister trait, it lurks and waits for the right opportunity to seize you. When it does, it leaves you reeling with shock, fear and a dread that can carve out any semblance of normalcy. To resist it and to change it is an ordeal. An ordeal that is a shadow of that monster. Then of course, there is a sliver of a grey hope, even that grey hope is a mere sliver.

The walk in this wilderness seemed to be never ending, it shrouds and shrieks, it threatens and looms, it devours and consumes.. all at the same time. Yet the feet move, a pace they find, a pace that lifts them momentarily from those clutches, each step is steeped in a despair so ominous and agonizing, footsteps transform into an eeriness that is endearing...   

Projector turns on..

A curious child was watching a film on a projector, the beams of light reflecting on the giant screen were holding him enraptured. He was thoroughly submerged in these pictures, the world being created in front of him felt more than real. His lines between reality and surreal were blurred. Not for a moment did he let himself want to leave this alternate reality.  The bliss of living in that world came to shatters when the lights went out, his train of imagination, his chain of surrealism, everything was shattered. He was left in a state of profound stupor, in a second, his reality had been pierced with an agony. The projectionist understood his conundrum, explained to him, "use these images from your mind and relay them at another realm. Witness the projections, drop the veil, live the images, stop resisting what is flowing through nature, do not resist the thoughts, become them, accept them and feel the insurmountable loss dissolve." 

The boy listened with rapture.