An Ancient Story

(Part – I)

In ancient tales

from long ago

Before the Dragons

and the endless cold

There was a flame

born in the midst of a storm

with rage serving as purpose

and chaos, the norm

She lived by the ocean

worshiping the sea

Always burning

in an unsatiable need

And each time she rode out

for hunt or for play

Her need made her stumble

in a cold too gray

And her sister of the winds

came to her in a dream

to tell her of a distant land

of freedom, strawberries and cream.

So she packed up her bags,

stood up and began to try

to reach that land so far away

Until she learnt to fly.

And then when she dreamt of a stone

at the center of the World

glowing oh-so endlessly

waiting for some angry girl

So she pulled on her gauntlets

and led out her steed

said her quick goodbyes

and ran off  to see

just what it was

that made this stone bleed

a fire so hot

even she could feel the heat.

Spellbound: A Tale of Wind and Fire

Freedom is exhausting

sighed the flame to the warm winter breeze

Please, scoffed the wispy wind

Like you know what it’s like to be free!

Of course I do, said the incensed flame

Boy, you don’t have a clue

and in a puff of indignation

Once shimmered, then withdrew.

It’s not that I don’t trust you,

said the Wind after a long pause

It’s just that you’re my sister,

and you tend to love things with claws

So what if I do, snarled the flame

accidentally setting things on fire

I thought freedom was all about

doing whatever your heart desires!

Stop that, said the wind, alarmed,

puffing after scattered embers

Burn the whole place down if you like

but even the Earth remembers!

You say now that you like it here,

but don’t notice your voice is fading

and every vow there was ever to keep

you’ve already thought of betraying!

So, tell me that you need to stay

and I won’t force you to leave..

but don’t tell me it makes you glad

It’s too much for me to believe!

The flame sputtered, then began to fade

as the wind floated on gently down

I didn’t mean to make you sad

I’m just tired of watching you drown.


Don’t you see how deep I’ve fallen

quietly said the spirit of fire

and all I can do is burn and burn

to the end of my heart’s desire

There’s always a way, said the windy faye

if you’d just stop burning to see

The World is wide, and we are young

And you were born to burn free!

But then something dark and twisted

crawled slowly within the hill,

the fiery faye crouched to the ground

and bade the wind to be still

I need some time, fiercely hissed the flame

This is just something I must do

There are things that need to be sorted out

And secrets I cannot even tell you

Abandon your quest, sister dear

vehemently whispered the wiser wind

As the flame circled the darkness below

and then looked up one last time to grin

No! cried out the willful wind

as the night came between the friends

And the flame’s parting words

echoed like some lost sentence

The lies are lies, and the truth is truth

Sister, there is no choice to make

I willingly gave all that I did

and what’s left is mine to take

And the wind, she howled, in a voice so fine

that even the Earth did shake

for what’s born of fire cannot be undone

but even the strongest spell can break.

And I Always Will [An Ode to Mave]

She tells me I don’t bleed for her anymore
Not the way I used to, at least
With windswept hair, and an untamed heart
and eyes that reflected the seven seas.
I don’t know how to tell her the truth
the reason behind my accelerating decline
About things that hit us all, when we least expect them
and about things that used to be just mine.
I try to write out my thoughts in words
but blood is the only color that shall ever suffice
And I don’t blame anyone for the fire
I’m far too tired from all of the ice..

Someday, I think, I’ll speak to her
Speak out my mind, and all that it craves
But, it isn’t my place to break down and weep
It’s only my place to stand tall, and be brave.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been a sobbing fool
I’ve been lost, and I’ve cried out my soul
But, with every tear that travels down the telephone line
there’s a frozen thousand, burying my heart in the cold.

And I’ve been tired, I’ve been weak
I’ve forgotten the words to all of my songs
But, she hums the tunes back to me
And reminds me of reasons why one must stay strong
So, sometimes, I say to her, you don’t love me
or at least, you don’t love me well enough
and she mistakes those waves of motion
for an ocean that’s wild and rough.

Well, I’ve been accused of paranoia, & a guilt complex before
I’ve been accused of being selfish and mean
I’ve stood trial for things I never did
but, through it all, by my side she’s been
So, what use are words, when you have my loyalty?
What use is proof when I’ve given you my word?
What are terms of endearment when you have my soul
hanging inches above the edge of your sword?
Yes, you must not be the one to impale me
that honor is much too trite for what we share
But, love, never let a lack of my words
make thou doubt just exactly how much I care.

My hair remains windswept
and at least the seas, still free
And I will always remember
what the wind meant to me
In the charm of your laughter
In the joy of your voice
When it comes to sides I’m choosing
even my words won’t have a choice.
And, you dance in my castle
You dance by the lake
You live out your life
And mend me when I break.
In your violent violet hues
I stand, and I laugh.
So, love, don’t ever accuse me
of not caring enough.

PT. Act II, Scene 2: Do What Thou Wilt

Philosophical Torment: Act II, Scene 2


Sartre talks about how all context of human happiness and pride is relative.

Well, more than Sartre, I suppose this phase really had a lot more to do with my good friend, Mave, who has philosophy classes as part of her course.

So, we were talking about how all the feelings we translate, or understand, as happiness, sorrow, betrayal, etc. are all colored heavily through the lens of social conceptions and constructs, i.e., you may own a Ferrari, and be happy about it, but you could be just as happy in any other car if it wasn’t for what a Ferrari connotates. Or, for instance, suppose you are very good friends with Person A, and then A moves away to another city. The feeling of sorrow you feel is a lot because you have learnt, and know, that when someone goes away, you will miss them. Otherwise, you wouldn’t think about it in conceptual forms as much as you would contextually.

Anyway, so, after a long and winded conversation, we reached an impasse where Mave was saying that nothing matters, because in the end, nothing will or does, and I was trying to rationalize that in terms of the purpose of any existing thing, let alone human life.

Are we all purposeless? Is it all pointless? Does it matter? Does anything? Does Nothing?

Apparently, Nothing Matters, which frees you up at a very basic and individual level, I suppose. It doesn’t matter who you anger, or who you hurt, or who you never speak to again. It doesn’t matter where you came from, or where you chose to go, or where you were exiled from. It doesn’t matter what rules you have to break. 

So, I CAN choose to spend the rest of my life locked in a room if that is what I want to do. I can party every night until I die (sigh. sounds dreary as hell). I can kill someone, if I think I have to. I can do absolutely anything I want, because in the end, if nothing matters, then all that matters is what you can see, feel and experience.

So, that makes sense, I guess. But, the above-mentioned impasse was actually this inherent problem with this theory that just wouldn’t quit bothering me: It equates the happiness you derive out of the quest and acquisition of power to that obtained from, say, the setting up of institutions to support the needy.

Mave said that it doesn’t say that you shouldn’t bother trying to change anything for the better, only that your motivations should be intensely personal. I assume in the sense that it makes you happy. But, I’m not sure if I’ve really wrapped my head around that.

Bottom-line being, in a billion years, we are all going to die, wherein we refers to the entire human race. If not a billion, then, whenever. On the pages of the history of time, humanity is a speck of dust. A self-absorbed, obnoxious speck. What is it all for? What are you creating, recording, recreating for?

The only thing that makes sense, is to understand.

The only other thing that makes sense is to not waste a single moment of our singular and precious existence. We have got to spend it all experiencing everything we can. We must! Whether we are rewarded with paradise, or are reborn in other avatars or return to atomic dust, this life is the one life you have. Everybody gets only one.

You get only one. 

Do what thou wilt.

Why I Love Her

(May 2009)

She danced in her very own secret purple dress,
a distracted smile on her face and her heart on her sleeve.
I edged away quietly into the darkness,
but I could feel her brown eyes lock on to the jagged edges of me.

And when Years later, there would be hurt and blame
and a world’s worth of tears as her nails made
intricate designs on my skin.

Designs that wouldn’t fade.
There would also be days
when death would come to play,
and we would stand around exchanging worried looks
as we watched her laugh her way around the people we knew.
While Secrets twisted around what we thought were hearts.

I don’t dance.
And I wear only armor on my sleeve.

We would grow and drift away,
an occasional shout to let the other know we still remembered.

There would be acceptance, even through my mumbled apologies.
There would be a twisted sense of understanding,
like the smile we sometimes shared.

I know why I’d take that bullet for you. 
Yes, a second chance is rare,
but dare
I ask for more?

There are no lies.
We stick to delusions.

We have nothing to show for all of the past except fading words and scars.
Somehow, I don’t mind.
As long as the music doesn’t stop, we’ll be fine.
I would rather watch from the sidelines.
But she’s always been the dancing kind.

How he knew it was Love

She skipped down the stone path, her little blond head bobbing up and down as they made their way to the lake. Something about that moment affected him, in a way that he couldn’t comprehend immediately, and he stopped, trying to ascertain what it was that he felt. She turned back and looked up at him questioningly, and as he involuntarily smiled, she beamed and waved.

At that moment he knew he loved her; and, it wasn’t at all like his mother had said it would be, as if he’d been struck by lightning.

No, it was more like being knee deep in cherry blossoms before realizing there was a reason everything smelled like cherries.