childhood, Fall, Flowers, forgotten, love, memories, monsoon, Philosophy, Photography, Pictures, rain, romance, tears, weather

Black

The black darkness of the night,
Laughs gently at me in a roar unforgettable,
The mirth is shattered by its sudden transition,
And with the force of its unworldly design.

The night transcends between whiteness and blackness,
Each transience celebrated by silver brilliance,
The madness of its turmoil unforgettable.

In heavy lumps of tears,
Amidst a wail that is deep and penetrating,
The night begins to weep.

The wanderer looks from his shelter below,
His eyes peppered with the salts of time,
Does this night sing a paean in honor,
Is it the laughter of a madman,
Or the cries of a lost wanderer

Shimmering and glistening,
Screaming and whistling, The black darkness of the night,
Continued its laughter and still,
The night continued to weep…

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Adventure, Autmn, Birds, color, Leaves, love, Metamorphosis, Nature, passion, Philisophy, Photography, Pictures, Poem, Poetry, rain, romance, tragedy, Travel, Trees, US

The Nectar of Despair

They sit in silence,
Drunk in the nectar of despair,
They sit in silence,
Soaking in the sanguine air,
They sit in silence,
As the raindrops dance heavily,
They sit in silence,
Like two still dancers,
At the end of the ballet of existence,

They sit in silence,
Drunk in the nectar of despair…

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Flowers, Instagram, Photography, Pictures, Poetry, Trees

Skeletal Remains

Lay out the skeletal stems,
Of the flowers from this basket,
Lay them out one by one,
Each one a twig desiccated,
Each one a corpse awaiting a shroud.
The noxious aroma fiercely wafts still,
A mixture of life and death dances still,
A Mixture of want and memories remain,
Amidst the aroma of dreams regained.
Lay out the skeletal stems,
Of the relics of a forgotten past,
Wrapped around dead flower petals,
Like untold stories at a funeral mass,
Lay out the stories one by one,
Each one born in a different life,  
A wistful existence falls silent,
In these stillborn skeletal remains.

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Blizzard, Branches, Ice, Photography, Pictures, Poetry, Snow, Travel, Trees, Winter

Let it Snow

Let it snow with the fury of the mighty wind,
Let it snow with the passion of the forbidden sin,
Let it fall on earth like frozen tear drops,
Let us watch as the ghostly world then stops,
Let not a leaf move,
Let there be no mortal sound,
Let there be nothing but specks of white,
Strewn over the landscape like a mad painter,
Let it snow with the fury of the mightly wind,
Let it snow with the passion of the forbidden sin.

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Autmn, Barrington, Flowers, Photography, Pictures, Poetry, Travel, Trees

Blurred Reality

The sights and sounds of all that we see,
exist in a hazy blur that cannot be.
The Vagrant blur clears just a little,
 in focus it becomes just a little,
 but yet these sights and sounds that we see,
Exist in a time and space that cannot be.

Of lamp posts and clock towers,
Standing tall over yellow flowers,
Dead branches and dead lakes,
White fenches and snowflakes,
The autumn wind announces,
The brick walkway dances,
In a blurred reality,
one that exists and yet cannot be,
These sights and sounds that we see.

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Autumn, Fall, Flowers, Grass, Leaves, Nature, Photography, Pictures, Poetry

As I Wander

As I wander on this nameless street,
by the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
 I gaze at the rustling leaf,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.

Like a dream that was not remembered,
but was never forgotten,
 I see visions of grass and the sun,
The sights seem familiar,
The air tastes of a memory,
Like the dew on morning windows,
Like the dead branches floating,
Like the numbness in fingertips,
Like the ghosts of memories.

As I wander this nameless street,
By the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
stolen from the belgian’s dreams.
I gaze at the colors of autumn,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.

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doors, Essays, Philosophy, Photography, Pictures

Closed Doors

In the vortex of puzzles and riddles that surrounds us in everyday life, there are few moments of absolute clarity. These are short and fleeting and are nestled between many mazes and are in fact very difficult to discern. But when you do find these moments, life becomes a little more clearer. Have you ever solved a mathematical problem knowing the answer in advance? The difficult question automatically becomes very easy. Our subconsciousness somehow works a little bit faster. But what does that have to do with anything? Have I understood the key to the mysteries of life? Have I unlocked the door of wisdom and pursuit?

Kinda but not quite.

I saw a movie recently while I was on vacation. I will not go into the complexities of it but will say that I didn’t enjoy it. It was long, meandering and really didn’t seem to have a purpose. Maybe it was the noxious odor born out of the decades that the bricks aged in this crumbling old single screen theatre but this movie seemed to be a metaphor for my life, and that thought depressed me. There was a line in the movie, which in hindsight is perhaps the few moments of it that I actually remember, the line is “unless you love, your life goes by in an instant” or words to that effect. I would like to take that a bit further. I say that unless you have a dream, or a pursuit in life, your lifetime will flash by in an instant.

I think about that and am afraid. What is this dream that I pursue? What is my purpose in life? My goal? Is there One or are there many? Is everything fluid or are some dreams more concrete? Maybe dreams are not meant to be concrete, maybe they are manifestations of each person’s frame of mind based on their circumstances. Maybe dreams are never meant to be realized. Maybe life itself is a dream.

These are all questions that I would love to know the answer to. But the answer does not lie in front of me, it is not wrapped in a nice box. It is not apparent. But I believe that the answer is out there for me to know. The answer is out there for me to pursue. In my wanderlust quest for the answer, I will find my dreams and I will discover answer to questions about myself and my dreams. That I believe is the true meaning of life. To open the closed doors of our hearts. This realization was the stroke of genius that I felt I saw. Some might say it was trivial or very obvious. They maybe right. It was not obvious to me. Things never are. But now I have the key, and the closed doors will not stay closed much longer.

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Essays, Photography, Pictures

On the Road…Again

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I live an interesting life, one that contains countless hours of monotone and some hours of somethings which are greatly different from my daily life. I was on the road last week. Travelling once again for work, seeking skills that the higher-ups think I need and I am trying not to construe this as a thinly veiled insult of some sort. There was the reassurance of having fellow travellers with me in the car which meant that whatever this skill was that I lacked, there were others who were right along with me.

After driving for about 5 hours we entered the famed ruins of detroit. Yes, ruins. I have seen similar ones before. Sprawling metropolitan cities which have been abandoned to their decay and vices and the results is a crumbling giant. Dont get me wrong, the city is still beautiful, the architecture, still magnetic, but as I was walking through the shadows of greektown looking at the empty streets, I realized that the best days of this city had passed it by. Whats left is a bunch of people not wanting to believe that. We still managed to survive this, ate at wonderful restaurants and saw possibly the largest french pastry assortment in the united states (a little ironic that we found this in Arab Town). At the end of the week, we left with mixed emotions. Sadness at having to leave a city that we called home albeit for a few days, and relief that we don’t normally call this city…home.

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