Soul poem IV..........the Brahman...is dead

Love ..is a faint voice...

almost like a child..

in womb....mostly felt and 

mostly unseen  

yet filling the existence 

of a woman.....and of a man, is unknown

yet ..as of now ..

the search is on 

for the cosmos and the feminine...

Time...moves

in leaps ....over the mountains..

sometimes as clouds...sometimes as thick fog

time is truth..they say..

and truth is space...they say

but space is every where..

inside you ..inside me

yet...as of now

the search is on

for the space....where truth is spoken...here and now.

The Brahman 

is dead...so are the sacred threads

and the beads

and the chants

and all the strings....

attached and those devoid...
can be consumed...by yellow and red  and blue .. flames
yet as of now,
the search is on ...
for the fire ...for the sublimation 
of existence

The Brahman....

is dead....the cosmic recluse 

is .... everywhere indeed...

birth never created  him

 death cant  undo her......Dance.....my love

in insane ..sanity

Drink.......my zoya

all the sorrows ....
of all the lives...

and sing ..

in your own voice

your own song 

..in your own way..

liberation..is here...and now
yet as of now..the search is on ...
for ....a lullaby

the phrase 'Brahman is interchangeably used here to denote the birth ..in a caste.....and as in 'the self -Atman'. Unless the birth order dies ,,,the 'other order' does not emerge .....the other 'order' is a spiritual path if one may say so...for no one knows what liberation means....to the liberated....and the liberated..can only say so in comparison to his or her erstwhile state. This is the last of the soul poems series... my dialogue with Zoya continues...as love , as the feminine, and as life itself ,
SHE ...fails to wither away...and I m not a  whiner.

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GABO..............and .....me

It is ... unimaginable

Gabo is dead.... or aleast the world says so

R I P. Gabo . they say...or atleast they  think so...

 I dont know Gabo....I know "Garcia" ....

I know ...one hundred years of solitude... ended flat in 24 hrs with four packs of navy cut....and the learning began...and life opened up ... in layers....

Be true .. he said .. to me.. in meditative trance....in love ...

Feel free to tell it... to the ones you love....

feel no shame to fall in love and feel no shame when you fall out of it....

all you need to be is true...

Life is a magic ....he said.....

some of it is lived.....but most of it is not even experienced..

live ..as though its real.. live as though its magic

Between Magical realness and real magic somewhere he said 

is the child... in you...

Don't let it die...

Nothing was left unobserved by him ...love... life... wars.. dreams...

'they didn't even bother to close his eyes'' he said...

poignant ...humane...Che was never more revered

If  freedom was pain .... if life was a  indeed real .....if liberation was a dream .. 

if tango was a  dance ......and relationships were lived ......if I would be born all over  again  and even if it were to be with a pig tail ..I would  find the solitude again.....Those ... 24 hrs....were cut for.. this very  God...

in many ways .. at many times....life imitates.....Garcia...

and now he they say

he is dead..

it just sucks...

this death......its all over the place...

and for once..

appears real

Desert ... and.... Heat

Sand moves  and becomes time

Time .....in hours minutes and seconds...

Time......in moments

Who says ....Time is frozen?

Who says ...Time waits?

Moments .....

Neither true .. nor ... False

Neither weak ... nor .. Strong..

Moments are moments....

grains of sand

that move....

a daze fills my self....

getting lost .....slowly 

steadily....grain by grain 

Letters meet and become words 

the heart feels the heat 

of the desert .....

I feel life ....not fertile ... not ...  barren 

I yearn for the morning sun 

the chirping cricket of the night pristine...

the first drop of rain....

just like the tribe....

of grains ... of sand...

Come my love .....

come out... of moments.....

of my yearnings and desires.....

of  the heat.. of being barren...

of the moistness of .. being fertile...

Speak my love.....

in my years of solitude....

in to my heart....

where every moment.. waits

only for you .

and time....

is infinite......and immobile....

around a cool corner

Here .... I touch ...you  ...
the....moist.. earth......no its not ...
actually its feels... like a stone .....
life less.....motion less and time less.....all of which
is not me.......
You tell me......its all over....and give it back ......the kiss
for the life in ur hand......and you dont talk.... you dont cry...you dont allow me to...
either.....


I begin to close my eyes.... and hold the cold palms on my face to wipe
the sweat......of fear.... of loosing you....for ever....
Thats the moment......I know...again... that  love is true
I know that to loose you.......is no fiction....
its real......
the rock speaks.... the truth and only the truth... and in nights of may some ...


.stones arent supposed to be cool


Strangers... we were... and 
in tru love strangers we became......

Oh my love .....
u are not there....if u get in here ...u will never be there.....
cry my baby......tears ar always true ..only if u dont feel them.

love ...................decimates every thing ...while constructing and resurrecting the very elements it aims to destroy..........that's ....love

oh my love .....
the condor need not fear ..about flying ...because in the very breath is its liberation ...no body teaches him .....How to fly .he knows......he knows....

where is the Guru ?Who knows ...and Who feels .....for when one knows he feels nothing and is silent.
oh my love ...
the journey is long ...and arduous ...yet short and sweet......it is a journey of not learning what u don't know... ...but one of unlearning..... of what u already know.........loose the craving ...once ....just for once ....and then for ever ...then SHE will hold u'r hand....
jus .....like a child ...