Archives for the month of: March, 2013

Empty of answers,
I pass into the land
Without questions.

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It is time and I am at the doors, with my bag of answers, ready to answer any question, to prove my worthiness to be allowed in, to the land where my children reside. And yet, contrary to what I’ve been warned, few questions are asked of me, disappointing the eager jostling, of answers within my bag. I’m allowed in.

It is this very bag of answers I must lose, at the threshold before my passing, into that land, which has doors everywhere, appearing often, most unexpectedly.

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Cutting a path through the jungle, in search of light, we grow weary, of what seems to be, never ending darkness, until, all of a sudden, something drops, like a blindfold from our eyes, and we squint, and shield ourselves, unable to bear the dazzling radiance, of the light’s embrace. We see now, that what we took to be impenetrable jungle, is only a forest of fluttering silk. Our blindfolds lie at our feet, like discarded lies. Who would hack away, unless blindfolded, at something so tender and delicate, as the love between us?

Cradled in the waters,
dropping inward with an ocean breath.

Sensing intangible contours of my body,
rippling outward towards a distant horizon.

Comforted and kissed,
by sweet sunlight.

Weightless,
I spin and unspin
I spin and unspin

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What would you do, if you knew, that this is a place of transit, wherein you invest, a school, wherein you learn, simply to leave behind, better conditions for a deeper knowledge, for those who come after you?

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How do you hold a pain, a grief that everyone knows about, that they cannot fail to remind you of, at a time when you must transcend, if you are to dance at all! Dance you must, it’s the only thing that keeps you, from the edge of the abyss. But then, after you’re done, they’ll come for you, backstage, when you can no longer hold back your tears, and offer you words of comfort, a hand, a sympathetic look. But it’ll not do. No. You must go home to that sacred space where you are with those, who are as deeply touched as you are, and whose transcendence you could make yours, without guilt. If only we could remember our dear departed, by forgetting their conspicuous absence!
How is it that I sense another presence, in this Auditorium, on the lone empty seat, by chance, beside my own, watching keenly, listening, to the sound of your anklets!

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The light for all it’s audacity, cannot keep the darkness out!

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I’ll know the time of day, by the light upon your face.

Wrongly parked, just outside the restaurant, with an eye to the convenience of a quick getaway, once I’d had my chicken soup, a quick cure, for a running cold, I cross the busy street with alacrity, hop into the car, start the engine, shift into gear, only to feel something blocking me – a mechanical device immobilising my wheel, put there by the traffic cops, to punish me, for my parking misdemeanour.

Waiting to be freed is frustrating. It’s a busy street and there’s much happening. I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, with a light on inside the cabin. I turn on the music system and listen to the one CD that’s been there, forever. It’s the sound track of a popular movie I wouldn’t wish to name, only because it’s so popular! A man comes towards me, hurriedly crossing the street, pointing frantically to my wheel. I thank him and let him know that I’m aware of it. A young man hops onto his motorcycle parked on the other side of the car and reverses straight into it. I chide him. He scolds me for parking that way, glances at the locked wheel, apologises, and speeds away. Another motorcyclist pulls up alongside and gives me a wondering look. He asks me, if I have done something about my situation, or, if I’m just sitting there! He nods his head towards the Traffic Police Post and tells me it would cost me, all the money in my wallet, to get out of there. I watch him ride away. Some time later, I’m noticed by a charming pair of Twins, my children’s friends. I get out of the car, to greet them. They tell me that I must be missing my children a lot. It is indeed true, of that moment. It is the sight of them that does that. My children no longer live with me, and it is not by my choice. The irony of it all! Here I am, immobilised, not by my choice either. I’d rather be driving home, to my wife. I’d rather our children were not so far away.

I’ve the choice to accept, or, to live in a state of constant protest. It’s probably not the last time I’ll be stuck, in a situation like this. I remember a conversation with a friend, yesterday, at lunch. I was telling him how meetings were destined, even if they appear to happen, by pure chance. By that argument, this too, was meant to be, allowing me the possibility of watching the world go by, from a rather unusual vantage point, on a street, now growing calmer, with less traffic, and shops shutting down, for the night.

I’ve been in that car now, for something close to ninety minutes. It was my destiny to meet the Twins, amongst others. But I wonder, if the only meeting that really counts, is with the one who’ll set me free!