Solitude/Imagination/Inspiration/Art of Living

Solitude

You are not Me anymore

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society, where none intrudes,By the deep sea, and music in its roar:I love not man the less, but Nature more”― Lord Byron

I give life to the dead Shape to an unborn

You are the piano by the precipice, Extending from inside me to touch the barren road, carrying life and hope by the parched, naked tree , spreading its vein in anticipation to touch the sky

You are the mist cleared high-rise Now cloaked in a layer of grey Forgetting to bloom, cooing at a new growing from the old.

The tune I don’t play anymore Creating rhythm from your core The creases you smooth, buttons you touch Your fingers caressing the fabric of my being They are lullabies to my salt-rubbed soul

The book you gave me to fly the kites It learnt to make fire with the wind The pages which made mangata by day Know the sun scorches by night I Don’t promise you touch But my voice, my volition My willingness to wish

Wrapped in your quilt, stitched in mosaic of glass I see my smudged shadow Gathered up to a new whole The abstraction of reality The size of hollow

You were my freedom spelled wrong We laughed at the geeky spell-bees For we made dictionaries of our own ‘Hopper and bees borrowing words Shards of my bitten soul glued and grown

Moments don’t die for they have no body Yet we stand on their graveyard and name them memory….

You are the piano by the precipice I negotiate the edge Standing chords in dissonance Distant mountains gleaned by mind growing wings My shoulders playing with feathers light and bouncy once You move away from vision Distance travelled through dust of dreams

The truck load of pebbles between us Moving through the ruins of my roots Chipping away every time to reveal A clandestine ledger of a demise

Who will read my secret journals now…. I gift it to the passing wind

You are not me anymore I am you — Solitude.

Thought Junction: “I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.”― Rainer Maria Rilke

A small green oasis I created amongst my concrete existence, my loner space for gathering thoughts, where the greens had peregrines, squirrels, butterflies and bees at their beck and call is slowly moving away from me.Thanks to an inter city shift. It is making me forget I am midst of a seasonal flare right now. I have tried to delay it, but only this much. The heaviness that has engulfed me and rearing its head time and again is often buried in the reigning human presence, chaos and noise, but when I am finally finding my now rare word-window. I don’t know why I miss the intangibles more than any human presence in my surrounding.

But life has to move on and so I fake. I trick my brain to believe in everything that is not, to push the sad bricks down the flush and float up amongst the happy molecules. The process continues and somedays serendipitously I succeed. Like today.

Today’s poem is an ode to my self-created patch which sings the tunes of my re-birth and will keep singing in my imagination till it fades….

I am wondering if you have a place/zone where you retire when creative bugs bite?!

A Thank You note to Claudia un p’tit je ne sais quoi for your kind gesture of including me as an Editor for your publication Poetic Essence. It is one very humbling experience in my Medium Journey.🙏

How can failure be viewed….as success ?! Read this fantastic article by Aaron Dinin, PhD titled One-type-of-founder-investors-hate-funding

One act of kindness and a happy soul. Read Gareth Willey in his article Thanks-to-this-kind-reader-ive-been-reunited-with-Photography

Sayonara from Soul Bay. Stay tuned for some updates next week and hoping you are enjoying your seasonal specialities around the world!

Today’s music is Calming Sitar by Anushka Shankar. I enjoyed this hauntingly melodious composition. Enjoy:)