The Pome lies beneath the cut.
" T h e E m p t y W h o l e "
A lonely long night, of painful moments,
stretched through to sorrowful infinity....
Luscious dark clouds stretch out so dense,
and through it all, I'm filled with guilty pity.
Her heart beats in quiet persistence,
but apart from signs to know, no way
if she can feel me flutter in this stance....
I fear to void such love each day.
So long my tears have been hidden away,
inside parched lids, my eyes do reside,
a while on a path, they led astray....
powerful emotions rage unchecked inside.
Her breath moves slow and daintily,
to nourish a mind in pain so saintly.
It weaves through catacombs of sorrow,
to bring light upon mine eyes, tomorrow....
- 200901xx
Kaydeeyoh!
Note: All comments Screened
- Location:Vanpic, Hyderabad
- Mood:
drained
Profile
angiasaa- Angirasa Acharya (aka Jim....)
- The Guywise Foundation
Page Summary
- (Anonymous) : (no subject) [+3]
- (Anonymous) : (no subject) [+5]
- nikitamehta : Quoting from my journal... [+1]
- sepiaverse : (no subject) [+3]
- (Anonymous) : YouthPad [+1]
Designed by angiasaa
angiasaa
Comments
"to bring light upon mine eyes, tomorrow...."
In all honesty, the words I used were intended to display a positive projection, but I faltered in the flow while I was writing it.. and a second, darker mood crept over my choice and usage.
It reflects a long struggle, sometimes, knowing, sometimes not, but in the end, there's final realization, understanding, peace..
But that's the positive side. it's like after the whole thing, tomorrow comes and _that's_ when you come to realize who the person _really is_. It's like writing a speech for when they call you onstage to give you an award, and at the crux, they call on someone else.
P.S.: Not so.. There's no reason to be intolerant, and there's no inclination to be so either.
And yes, that's what friends are for naa.. If they don't understand us, who can? And if they don't, you lock them outside and without a key.
Edited at 2009-01-28 08:11 am (UTC)
Though at the time I was writing the pome, the thought that filled me was one of apprehensive exploration, visiting a part of myself that I'd not known even existed before.
Suddenly, light shines upon me, breaking through the dense clouds. A new day arises each time I blink, and yet there's a chance that I fool myself. :)
A great Sufi Saint said once tere ishq nachaya... this is what im reminded of when reading your pome.
Do you have a copy or a gist that you could share with me sometime, I'd like to check it out sometime. :)
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.
This love has set up camp inside me.
It is I, who filled the cup with this poison and drank it.
Come back, my forsaken, else, I will surely die.
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.
The sun has set, its glow remains.
Grant me a sight of you again! I would die for it!
What a mistake I made, not going with you.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.
Mother do not bar me from this love.
Whoever turns back unloaded boats that have left?
How foolish I was, not going with the boatman.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.
Peacocks sing in the groves of love.
My beautiful beloved is my Ka’ba, my Qibla.
He injured me, then turned away.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.
Bullhe Shah, I sit at Inayat’s door,
He clothed me in robes of green and red.
When I stamped my heel, I found him.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.
Remind me to make you listen to the song, next time we chat.
Ah,
But many thanks for the offer. :)
Let them free, let the tears devour you. Give me your tears... give me
your sadness, your happiness. Take my tears, fill yourself with love.
Sometimes, pain can be utterly sweet. It's sort of like a sacrifice. In itself it's not honey, probably even unbearable. But taken as a part of a considerably large whole, it turns into a tantalizingly sweet nectar.
Edited at 2009-01-28 09:09 am (UTC)
and sacrifice?i don't know... it seemed to me, more about surrender, and that i thought lent to the enjoyable aspect of it; the pain coming from a certain human resistance to that absolute state..but like i said, i read it like it was a torn away portion of some medieval romance ;)
The last line (the clincher) was not anticipated, and not intended per se.. It's just that when I came there, it seemed like the only thing left to add, and I added it.
You actually got the drift as I'd penned it. Human resistance.. Your choice of words is curious to say the least, but somehow, fitting. :) Surrender yes, but in this pome, I hoped that I'd toned it down. Did'nt expect anyone to catch that. :)
And yet, there's a strange forlorn feeling I keep getting that might not be apparent, but it nags at me.. there's something wrong there and I can't put my finger on it.
You've tried introducing me to it before, I'm not a youth, I'm not from the Delhi NCR, I'm not a student of a premier college, and I'm not interested in citizen journalism. The model you people use is phenomenally outdated, and for all its worth, falls flat on its face. You've been _trying_ to implement it for a few years now to no avail.
YouthPad, from my last interaction, is not interested in my opinion. God bless those who have not! :)