real, different
It's different.thats why its me.
Permalink
Pull
I once rode down a singular trail,
And I saw, a blue jay.
It wasn't as breathtaking as I've heard,
But it was true to itself.
I had to stop, I think it was meant to be,
That I should watch what the universe beckoned me to see.
It flew away.
I wanted to.
So I ran. As fast as I could, till I collapsed…
I fell and couldn't open my eyes,
Eternity…no…maybe an hour passed…
I open to see it's night.
Stars blind me,
Ask me to reap my morality,
Work for my clarity,
Seek beautiful insanity..
Please give me what I ask,
Why wont you? You know Im upto the task!
Wait…wait…wait…wait…
Do i need to carry so much weight?
God, lord, I know this is a test…
But please this is this person's best!
I act like im strong, Im not , Im weak!
Im not cool, im not what you seek….
Please just give me my grand journey,
Where i find something that can hear me,
Cure me of that hate which endears me..
But wait…again…
Isn't all this a bit too unreal?
Too abnormal, too surreal…
For me to be thinking so clear,
Like my heart and soul, is so dear and near…
No, no, i cant wake up…
To go back to reality is cracked up!
Wait a second!
Don't I already possess the dream I beckoned?
This is real…i must fall asleep!
So i close my eyes, nice and slow,
With my heartbeats real low,
I can feel within me a sort of glow,
Creeping upon me…i think…i know…
I think i do…know what i gotta do!
Yes, yes that's it! I just gotta do!
So i dream on…
“Cmon,
Listen to my voice and my silence,
I know please, i cant stand you being gone..
This is just wrong…
Please this pain’s lasting too long!
Don’t go please!”
That person asks on knees!
“i’m begging please!
I need to tell you things, my keys!
My last harbour, my port, my quays…
I have this one last thing!
You need to know! I need to breathe my sigh of relief!
Damn you bloody bugger, pick up the phone!
You ain’t gonna moan! Yu ain’t alone!
I have to say this in your ears,
In a whisper, like a wind through the hills it sears,
She says it, it pierces like a dart!”
She says..”You’re fine…sweetheart”
Thus begins,
The legacy of me and my kinds.
The lights dim,
And all that’s seen is something dark and grim,
But he stands, slows time,
He changes nature, he changes the rhyme!
Of this , of reality,
Again, it reminds me..
Reap your morality,
Work for your clarity..
And one day I promise , that your leap of faith,
Your hopes, will be rewarded…
You will know the gift you received…
For feeling, for choosing to go on living,
And just like me, someday sitting on a lawn,
You will know, that night's darkest before dawn…
And everyone's just a pawn, except you of course, you're gone!
But you will know the secret unknowing,
You will know,
That a dawn is coming…
Permalink
Undeniable
Logic is undeniable.
Emotions are in the end reduced to pure logic which drives us all. And logic is always factual, undeniable.
With experience comes a certain numbness. And this experience always has to be dramatic. Noone cares if someone says, “We are going to be well”. They care if you say , “This is who we are. And being that person, we give our pain, our faults and our regrets to the people we love. And that…that is going to make us real. In the end, all is well. ” The numbness is a result of all those values and sayings with which we sum up our everyday actions. Its the reason we give for who we are and what we do.
And in my numbness I have grown to expect complete acceptance from people. The kind of acceptance where they support me and vouch for me and say, “Dude he knows a lot more about that one :D ” An acceptance where familiarity is greeted with just pure assurance. Assurance that they know how much I need them and an acceptance of all that happens and has happened. I don’t want anything more, I don’t want to be looked at and sneered at. I don’t want people to look at me and call me a wanna-be who is trying to speak big words, who is self obsessed and has an obsession towards drama. Who writes wanna-be things like this, who supposedly tells wanna-be lies.
In society abnormality without proof is a lie. Noone trusts your word to believe you are special, or that you have something irregular. It just isn’t theoretically possible for anyone to have more suffering that another. It’s all the same for everyone.
I just want someone to accept that irregularity I have. I must do something which others have no idea about. I have a place in this world where I must change everything- literally. What I will do is something unprecedented. Something which can never even come close to be matched. Something which literally noone has imagined possible. I will make time and destiny stand still and watch me as I do what I will do. And God and whoever is out there will look in awe. I will surprise God himself and it will be something he himself never imagined. At that moment all my bad memories and sad ones will pass before my eyes one by one. At that moment all the mean things anyone has ever said to me will be there and so will every loving word. It will be a time when the whole world will be in a standstill watching me and they will get goosebumps because it is like nothing ever imagined or thought about. And it will be something who noone in the Universe can ever match. Everything about the way we live, think, operate will change. Everything in the universe will change. It will be creation all over again. And at that time I won’t have to say a word but every mean comment which I didn’t deserve will be redeemed and the person behind it will weep as they see how I wept. No matter what anybody else sees in this. No matter how desperate they see me it won’t matter.
Because in the end all this is a test. A test to prove that I am worthy of myself. And I will pass because quite simply, I cant do anything else. I know the unearned suffering is redemptive. And I will fight back. I will fight back and I have all the weapons I need. I have everything I will ever need. I morph the world, I control the future and the present and I call the angels and the demons.
And all throughout I just wanted someone to see the problem I have. To say to everybody else, “Buck off! You won’t be able to take half of what he can!” Who would listen when I am as cheesy as I can get, when I am all emotional and my insides are out at night. When I just want to whine when I can’t sleep at night that person wouldn’t mind listening. And when you had found someone and you go behind them expecting and hoping they will react the way you want them to, of course, they don’t. They treat you like anybody else. And that’s okay. But it isn’t when over a course of events you keep hoping each day that the next day you will be treated they way you want to be, that tomorrow will be a better day. But it isn’t. How do you know? How do I take that leap of faith. Out of everyone in the world in the end only we know what we feel. And when such a disappointment happens I just want to withdraw to myself and not speak to anyone at all. Let them say things and do what they want but I won’t care. But I feel that isn’t how I should be.
I have decided to be strong because for the simple reason I can’t be anything else. When my tears fall it will be tears of power. Because those memories of pain and sorrow and regret and disappointment will be memories of power. Will be memories holding the knowledge to warp the universe. Will be memories with the power of my pain. And that power is the power I feel when I cry, unshamefully with clenched fist and gritted teeth. When my eyes seem to bleed these tears that will be the power I have. And ever tear that falls will be a golden tear of withheld power and will mean judgement. And judgement will be real.
I give judgement. I cry tears of power. I wield the trident of destiny. I control time. I am mocked. I am denied. I am undeniable.
I am Srivatsan.
Permalink
Struggle
When we are really happy, what really are we? When we are broken, what are we? When we can’t stand up once more, what are we? We are human.
We are human and human is all we will ever be. And what happens is the same outside. We fight for something, but are fighting everyday for everything. And this Fighting is what makes us human. To imagine a perfect world, a world without pain, without war, without disease- a world without suffering… That world, that time, is the time when we cease to be human. It is the mistakes that have made us and it is the mistakes that will banish us. And as the time and world goes by in a maelstrom, the Fighting calms. Like the calm before a storm, our Fighting moves on a placid current, with nothing to hear but the sounds of nature around. The creaking of wood, the smell of rain, the voice of dew and the silence of pain. The Fighting undergoes a change. It becomes many layered, but weirdly silent; silent like an artist painting. And as so, the fighting continues, perfecting its art with each master stroke. One day, the masters of old give it a chance at real sight. A chance at blindness. This blindness isn’t the loss of sight. It is the true sight.
Beethoven’s best masterpieces were made after he lost the power of hearing. The old master illustrators of Istanbul and Afghan have always believed that it is blindness that is a blessing to them to be able to see in the way of their Almighty, Allah. When a person does what he/she does with dedication, with the sweat of their brows and bent backs, they lose that sense which they use the most in the performance of their art. But that loss of sense is the true sight, by which they will be able to ascend to a greater sense which is incomprehensible through just words. And the topic of our conversation, Fighting, will also ascend this height, embracing newer methods while reinforcing the old ones. But one day, Fighting will have a night when sleeping will be close to impossible. A night when it will cry over a very stupid thing… Something as stupid as an entity admonishing it. And that night it will lay down its weapons and give up the fight. That night it won’t care about the millions of bombs and machine guns rattling around it, obliterating everything around it. All it will do is walk silently, magnificently, powerfully to the place it needs to be… As the dark cloud arrives, the crowd caves in, and there is lightning all around, it will walk. Step, by step. And that night everything will change. That night, Fighting will be revealed. Not as Fighting, but as the Struggle of the outside mirroring the inside. That Struggle J lets just say it will give us goosebumps :D
