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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Friday, December 25, 2015


Shooting stars, stuck behind magnificent pawns
On a checkered surface of crytallised space,
Surrender to waiting
Like a breath that’s lost its way.

Souls, shallower than shadows,
Whisper from beyond the edge
Risky propositions.

Bridges, made of promise,
Flutter in the crazed wind.
We cross, laughing all the way.

There is stillness
All the way to the deepest death.

Those that come back
Bring with them serene eyes painted with blankness,
Gotten from staring within too long,
Revealing that
Everything can be had from surrendering to nothingness.


There is Motion,
Created by Cause
Reaching towards an effect
Stuck in Transition.

The universe moves
From Stillness to Stillness,
A tree born of seed, to birth fruit wherein the seed sleeps,

An infant crawling to manhood,
A star burning to glow,
A sacrificial fire, the medium between deity and host.

Existence hurtles on,
As Time keeps score,
Unable to focus past the constant Present
Relentlessly egged on by the past
Repeatedly cheated by an elusive future,
Too blind in its drive to see,
Unable to realize
That its search is a deceit
So it can never really find

That stillness which it desperately seeks.

Sunday, December 6, 2015


As the eagle glides,
I rise
Through layers of fog,
Upto the open sky
I fly. I fly.

By the stars
That tickle the gentle night,
Stooped in space,
Wrapped inside my mind,
Secrets sigh.

In the waves
That don’t keep up with the time,
Dimpled smiles,
You’re everything I find.
Love’s lovely rhymes.