To the internet

links beyond links

and links after those

some culminating in a rhyme

and occasionally in a complaint

some meeting a talking camera

and travelling with it

some walking with a censorious glance

and arriving at a passion

some, simply unoccupied

harmlessly addicted.

all of them together

a web of links

connected by their humanness

there is a god.

Many things can make me believe that there is someone who can make sense out of the world. Unexpectedly, blogs did that to me today. Perhaps I haven't come across a bad blog yet; but the more blogs I go through, the more I realise how many good hearts are beating out there, how many people work or at least want, to change what they do not like, how sadness always graduates to happiness and how that happiness is always there, like a talisman. I realise how many people are writing instead of picking up a gun or even shouting at someone. And suddenly, I see that all of them are similar: possessing similar angst, similar love and similar energy, and I know, there is a god.

Contentedness

It is all falling back into place

There is nothing to fear

And nothing to disbelieve in

And no reason to cry

Also, more importantly,

There is no reason to be pessimistic

To notice what is not present

Because there is so much to think of

And so much to remember

Fondly.

Contentedness, unlike happiness, wears off after a while. But it is worth enjoying while it is there, and unrealistic to fear a future without it. This is what I have learnt; and I am glad I have learnt it. These are happy tears, a little late in the day.

Stupid

Sometimes I wonder

If my life is a dream

And everything I value

I am making up

Hallucinating.

Sometimes I fear

that I will wake up

Realise there was nothing

Or worse, that the dream will continue

Ceaselessly.

I know I'm tiresome when I get all wondery. I know all this sentimental nonsense is making you want to bury your computer in an unmarked grave and forget the location. But I can't help it. Bear with me.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

Agreed to have a battle;

For Tweedledum said Tweedledee

Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow,

As black as a tar-barrel;

Which frightened both the heroes so,

They quite forgot their quarrel.

Lewis Carroll, Through The Looking Glass (And What Alice Found There)

Tweedledum and Tweedledee have been fighting over their rattle (which is also known as heaven on earth, incidentally) for a long enough time. They each have been claiming stake to its shikaras and its lake relentlessly. Let's hope that Nature in the form of a rather watery crow, which spells danger for both Tweedledum and Tweedledee, brings them back to their senses and makes them forget their, ah, quarrel. Unite against a common enemy, or at least cower together before it. Save your necks and run.

The Waiting is Like Water

The water
Is ever-moving, flowing
Breathing life
Into a river.
Looked at from miles away
By an impassive eye,
The water is still
And the river is still
Like movement is unreal,
Stilled
And the waiting is like water.

The rock
Is steadfast, immobile
Giving shape
To the river.
Looked at from a broader spectrum of time
By a knowing eye,
The rock is moving.
It is being eroded
By the water
And hope is like the rock
And the waiting is like water.

Yet the water cannot be stilled
Unless I am impassive
And the rock cannot be eroded
Unless I know
Therefore
I choose to be impassive
And I choose not to know.

Writer's Block

When It comes and It hits you
And you feel all but creative
And your outlets for expression are but few
That is when opportunity knocks.

And you drive her away
You ignore her, offend her
Half-wishing she would stay
And make your work easier.

But your elders were right
When you were a kid, they
Told you hardwork was might
Creation was never on your agenda then.

Then opportunity, the vile woman
Goads you, mocks you, teases you
And you'd very much like to run
Never have to think your way out of It.

Then you turn sly
You appease opportunity
Coerce her to ally
And churn out a poem.

Because it is laughably easy
And very satisfying
To rhyme a-b-a-c
And not sound too lame.