Posted on by solangesuri2015

“Does Love exist,” she asked…

“Does love exist,” she asked

 

“Expectations unmet

And feelings are held on to closely

On a short leash…

And what about love?

Love stays in my head

Not my heart

It lives on as a concept

It seldom, if ever

Enters my aching heart

 

Does it exist? Anywhere?

And should it exist?

My relationships are but a transaction

Held together precariously

By a concept called ‘duty’.

 

What makes ‘duty’ more dear than love?

Perhaps because I sees that everybody else thinks so…

Love is this fluid, uncontrollable ache

Love knows no partiality

It reveals all

And that’s the scary part

That in love

I will be seen in my nakedness

My skin will lie before you

In all its blemishes

My aching heart will

with innate gravity and force

Drop me to unimaginable lows

I will long for you and your deliverance

With no certainty ever

That I shall be received by the open arms of your own longing

 

Love can just about assure me of two mercies:

Hope and Faith.

But it is duty that’s more prudent,

more pragmatic

It helps me float over the ache

 

And it is Duty that pays the bills

For all those distractions

That fill up my space and time

And love continues to live on

In my head

As a concept.

And because it does

there are expectations unmet

And feelings restrained.”

Posted on by solangesuri2015

Understanding Ignorance

Ignorance has a wide circle of friends

Ignorance has tremendous influence

It draws me to people

And people to me

Our common pretense, our common act

We come together in what we lack

Or so we say always believing

It’s through another’s eyes I may understand my seeing

There’s no place among friends for him who knows

It’s your ignorance, your inadequacy that opens up doors

It’s Understanding  though that has afforded me this insight

That Ignorance need not be wrong, it can be very right

Especially when you need some friends

Understand that you’re better of with Ignorance.

 

Posted on by solangesuri2015

Manifesto

Our economic system is flawed.

Our political system is flawed.

Our education system is flawed.

Our society is flawed.

 

Because they thrive on falsehood

They need lies for profit, for leverage

And in and through their design

All work is sacrilegious and a curse.

Poverty is immanent in wealth

We only graduate in degrees of ignorance

And man is bound to man in a wretched dependency.

 

The root of all this is the individual

Fallen from Grace

He seeks his Self

He tries to know who he is

By being who he’s not (a sum of different parts).

 

Filled with deluded notions of grandeur

He procures. He makes. He sells.

And he is celebrated for the profit he makes.

In this blinding business of generating profit

He is left with sight, but loses his power to perceive.

 

With such an impairment

He can find worldly sustenance only through profit

He woos gain

And fears loss

He is wide in mirth

But shrivelled in sorrow

He wants only part of what life has to offer

He has no faith in the whole.

 

And the Truth cannot be anything but whole

The Truth Is.

It need not be created

The Truth cannot be measured by numbers or degrees

It is all-pervading and all-embracing.

 

Truth does not grow

It does not favour

the rich over the poor

the strong over the weak

the haves over the have-nots.

 

Infallible in its system

It awaits our homecoming

If only man could find solace

in the knowledge that it’s okay to not know…

And simply accept his being

Forego the contrivances of “who” or “what”.

And celebrate am-ness…

 

Then Truth would speak

And Truth would need

That which only Truth can give

Truth would ask

And Truth would answer

And Truth would accept

What Truth had made.

 

 

 

Posted on by solangesuri2015 · 2 Comments

Presence

I picked up the glass of water

A ring of residue remained

I wiped the surface

The table remained

I took away the table

The room remained

I took away the room

Its memory remained

I took away memory

Nothing remained.

 

Nothing had been there all along.

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The Mind

The mind is movement

perceived by the virtue of stillness

It is an influent

whose ultimate source

and ultimate end

is a mystery.

Watch then, you

with the eyes of your soul

its spectre of affections:

of fear and sorrow

of longing and ecstasy.

And even though

in its search for truth

it makes things true

Distance its truth

as one would a lie

And marvel at its virtuosity.

Appreciate it

As you would appreciate a Monet

not just for an enchanting picture painted

but also for seeking to understand

the illuminating and glorious

light of the day.