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The Empty Whole

  • Jan. 15th, 2009 at 5:31 PM
Over Stand
Written a few days ago... I forgot to note down the date. And though I'd intended to have this post up earlier, I was apprehensive and unsure if it was the most clever thing to do on Earth or not. Finally, I'm convinced. All for the best. One day, many millennia from now, someone will read it and be thankful for the joy. His friend would weep in sadness. :)

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


Note: All comments Screened


(no subject) - (Anonymous) - Jan. 15th, 2009 04:57 pm (UTC)
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 08:10 am (UTC)
*screened as requested* but I think your comment is worth sharing with others who could partake of your insight. Strange as it is.. It's a very vivid point that you indicate, and you're righter than you think.

"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)
nikitamehta wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 12:02 pm (UTC)
You bring out the curiousity in me.. Ive would have loved to see the original comment!
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 06:14 pm (UTC)
I know.. I for one thought it was very apt. :)
(no subject) - (Anonymous) - Jan. 16th, 2009 08:35 pm (UTC)
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 09:08 am (UTC)
Ah, you make it sound so surreal. :)

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. :)
nikitamehta wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 12:15 pm (UTC)
Literal Translation
O Physician, come back! my life is ebbing away.
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.
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 06:31 pm (UTC)
Re: Literal Translation
Ty Ty.. I think it's nice, though it sounds incredibly awkward in English. :P

Ah, sepiaverse who commented soon after you below already sent me 4 renditions of the song. Would have checked it out abhi tak.. It's just that Gmail's not opening up on my laptop today for some odd reason. :(

But many thanks for the offer. :)
subtle_blues wrote:
Jan. 30th, 2009 07:03 pm (UTC)
Re: Literal Translation
forward it to me, please.
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 31st, 2009 04:33 am (UTC)
Re: Literal Translation
Thank goodness there's no RIAA in India. (or is there?)
nikitamehta wrote:
Jan. 16th, 2009 09:03 pm (UTC)
Quoting from my journal...
Tears will rush forth when you realize that we are surrounded and protected, by the power of love. Love which keeps us warm even in the lonely hours. Love, which heals, even the most horrible pain. Love which makes you want to cry. Cry, tears of joy.

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.
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 09:15 am (UTC)
Re: Quoting from my journal...
Profound. What you're saying is basically that love hurts, but it hurts good na? :o)

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.
sepiaverse wrote:
Jan. 21st, 2009 05:17 pm (UTC)
makes me happy-sad.
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 07:55 am (UTC)
Cause of no particular reason? Or cause of the image of sacrifice for the heart portrayed within?

Edited at 2009-01-28 09:09 am (UTC)
sepiaverse wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 05:24 pm (UTC)
no particular reason..just reads like a courtly romance :)

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 ;)
angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 28th, 2009 06:14 pm (UTC)
Honestly, it began as such.. But the drift shifted as each line was laid down, as emotions are want to do. :)

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.
(Anonymous) wrote:
Jan. 29th, 2009 08:25 am (UTC)
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angiasaa wrote:
Jan. 29th, 2009 09:23 am (UTC)
Re: YouthPad
Thanks for the compliment though it's highly unlikely you really mean that. If indeed you're not a bot, that is.

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! :)