I want the madness within me, whoever that is, to exude, and to exude itself with full force. I crave for a madness that bares me naked to the world, in this world where the competition lies in the lies to hide the human reality. I want the freedom not to choose what is expected of me, for the sake of a man-made life, to be chosen. I want the choice of love, a dream of the material death, life of the soul. I want not to be a king to the people, nor to be the people to a king, except in a kingdom where the king is a purity being the only truth I know of.
Tell me not, that what I desire for is the unattainable, for that would make you an absolute liar, in the eyes of what you might label as absolute madness; if you tell me though, that I’m losing my mind, I shall understand what you imply by the word ‘mad’ and why so, but I won’t agree with your definition. There IS no definite anyway, other than the ultimate truth of purity. The sooner all of us admit to this reality, the better it is for the journey towards the nothingness that awaits us, inside of us.
I believe in the unseen and know of the unknown; yet what is known to me is nothing, and I’m content with that. I also know that if I fail to accept the world, I might be rejected by her as well, but that has ceased to scare me anymore; for the world prefers to believe in the visible, and thus it does not know the charm that lays concealed in the ‘not knowing’, the mystery of the invisible.
I HAVE been on the other side, on the darker side of death. Death is the gap between the spark that ignites and then burns fiercely, each day, to seek the truth, and the knowing of the fact that the sought for is in close proximity of the seeker. And as this space goes unnoticed with time, it expands so much as to reach the extreme opposite of the truth, and shedding life along the way, itself turns into THAT very death one day. I was somewhere close to that point of no return, and then a miracle happened, and I became a believer, both of miracles and of the miracle-maker.
This was not a scientific coincidence, like the apple pulled down by gravity and bouncing off the tip of Isaac Newton’s skull. This was not like the giant leap for mankind by the first step set on Moon’s surface. This was not like developing in the security of my mother’s womb and finally making it to the jungle outside. This was not like any chemical or even herbal drug that any person has ever experienced or ever will: This was a lot, lot more than all of these combined and many more of what I had been mistaking for (a desired) life. This was coming back to life itself, by watching only a glowing particle of the tip of the iceberg after having driven a ship into the middle of destruction and having assumed death of the self for what had seemed like centuries. This was strange, weird, dramatic, beautiful and many more words which have not even been invented yet by man, and probably never will either!
Written on: 25-06-2012
Something hastily burns
In the birth of this mist,
Some fast-rising smoke;
Resemblance of an aura
Of a scenic skyscape, an expanse
Over an endless sea, meditative thought:
What we never do, and to what we ought.
Just as clouds that kiss the Moon-face,
Floating on a breeze, forever travellers,
Crossing same paths, familiar lines,
Finding something new in every embrace.
Better to lose at times, but to lose with grace!
We have lived in this concrete, plastic-fibre place
Enough, to know the organic value of things…
What good is after all, a reality, constructed
Within walls of stagnated, un-growing thought!
The real, as surreal as the ideal itself,
Not to be contained in human brain boxes;
She just is, let her be.