Without and Within

Even in the dreams, I had to find you. It was never so easy, but adventurous to close my eyes to darkness and lose myself to find you. You see, I talk about dreams because the reality is often not accustomed to my need. It all began on the cyber interaction, one of the social media platform I have lost to my misery. But those interactions only made my conscious mind find interest in you with all stereotypes assembled at its edge. We met and walked. Trees were important to both of us, subconsciously everything settled into the walking patterns. I have heard a few stories about you. You only told me everything, but somehow I still could not fit all the reverberations in the simple sense of love I wanted.

You are my muse. One should never fall in affection with the Muse. One eventually falls in love with the muse. Two different terms and yes, that is why I am conflicted.

I love you. A syntax that I find rather ambiguous now. ‘I’ and ‘love’ have nothing to do with each other more of a natural law. Can I simply say? I make the stars move towards your planet to keep it warm? I can? Because I am a writer. But at the same time, we young minds never truly realise what our metaphor infer.

You would rather be friends and why not, dear muse. I have my dreams.

I wake up, alone.

 

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Narnia’s Cold Heart (Enceladus)

Narnia is the name of the allusive beautiful woman who never got to travel out of her own body. Beethoven held the violin and extracted so much, but somehow there were times that even the finest music could not hold her universe intact.

The night is approaching and my ship shall crash the moon anytime. It is called Enceladus. It looks like a frozen heart. Cold and alone in the dark. People say there is life inside. But all I know right now is that there is a chance that the cold surface never breaks and I die.

I would tell Narnia, that the world is at times darker than we perceve and she would argue that it was all light and we were sleeping. As I am being pulled by the minute gravity of Narnia’s frozen heart, I wonder, if she was ever told how beautiul the pull was, how amazing it would be for a man like me to fall in love with her. She was young because she stood still adoring the world she cannot reach and I was old enough to crash into love.

Once in for all.

Love sustains time better than death.

Dear Narnia, there will be a time when your heart shall melt, because the sun shall appoach the lost planets. For now, here I am about to make you feel a rush inside with all my life.

I love you,

A lost life.

To Finities and Funny Things

Dear Death,

Right now, it is 2:03 AM and I just felt like telling you a few things. I mean, I wonder if people ever tell you things about life. People live a little fast, sleep too much, dream a little less of you and well, life is more about ignorance and happiness. You see, happiness sustains in the senses till they are not aware of how trees actually cannot speak the language of our lies. We grow up to rediscover only our fallacies.

Some star that I used to call Sparky gets named B-8779 according to this thing called NASA, or maybe they call it something else now.  Sparky told me stories about how he had hopes for me to be an amazing writer, but this world only tells me that it only burns to give off light. I mean, how does that make sense. I was reading The Little Prince today, somehow, my cognition felt down to its origin to feel better. I was also not satisfied with my day, as I could not get a response from the people I look forward to talking too, at that moment I realised that even though Sparky was not there in the sky anymore like my best friend, maybe because of the dusk in Delhi or some other scientific reason, I was alone only because I was taught what is alone. Sparky died with my acceptance of the subjects. Loneliness was born out of knowing that my father is never happy with my mother when she is not able to help him sort his issues.

You see, dear death, it almost seems to me, that we grow into your need. By default, isn’t it? We are born as a pure stack of beautiful thoughts and then we do make-believe things like chemistry and psychology and sociology and even this language that I am writing in for that matter.

I was born in a way that I admired females in a different way, then I grew older and developed sexual urges. Last week I kissed a girl and now when I am not able to have regular conversations with the girl, my mind acts a little strange. We grow into the need of death. I wish I could simply admire the girl I kissed in the manner I can without hampering my head. But that’s human, developing ideas that only hunts the life within them.

Throw a nuclear bomb at me and I will meet you, but I wonder if I will ever be able to tell you why I lived. The point is, I don’t need to know and that’s what life is, we don’t know. Philosophers like me think day and night, but we never realise that even time is just a cute tool of the mind. How much can I really know till my own mind ages into an oblivion? Why do I even need to do things? I can only have fun with sparky, every night.

I don’t know, death, I just cannot tell you about life. It’s funny. Better not to know that right now my psychology is actually suicidal. How funny is that? They call me an escapist. Even funnier!

Ah, it is humorous to find these grown-ups not able to sit down and smile for no reason.They call it madness and the complaint about how they are not content. I don’t know, I just probably want to kiss the girl again. It brings me closer to myself and to you.

Dear death, I dont know. Let me.

Regards,
Sagar Arora

The Eternal Verse

Souls dwelling in the sun,
Their cries bleeding into crevices
Immortality imprisoned with love,
Surfing and drifting with flares while they sleep.

In the sleep of pain to forget the night,
They dream of the Earth, the allusive lies,
A planet where they can live in bodies,
Not the celestial fire, but the creative desire.

Sleeping for centuries and almost lost,
But one day, they listen to their cries,
As vibrations from the sun,
Holding the planets of deception,
Awakening through the nerves that went numb,
We all, one day, will drown with the burning lungs.

The mighty prison shall break,
And the poor souls shall pay their pain,
Karmic supernova till the universe collapse,
The mystic material of the forehead to overlap.

We shall cry in peace,
Our broken soul would heal,
Through the dead breeze,
We shall fly towards home.

Not Earth, we are not alone,
But we are one, the sun then,
And darkness now,
Home is the void around.
Mystical sound, unless the sun bursts into time,
Unless dimensions are broken down.

 

 

 

What is my Name?

“What is it, Sagar?”

“I don’t know really know, one of those waves of thoughts that are not meant to be expressed.”

“Confess, in verse or vibrations that shall end up in the space once exhibited from the mouth.”

“Alright, I will speak it out then.”

“One day near the lake,
I thought to myself about my name,
About who am I?
Where I am going?
And where am I from?
It seems as if I am lost.
I looked around and the thoughts would resonate,
Each time, each eye would ask the same,

What is my name?

So are we all lost?
In the space just like this verse,
Enumerating through words,
Vibrating through walls of the heart,
Escaping through the origin of those stars.

In fact, all of them are like these words,
Exhibiting different answers to the questions,
To the same tree, resting over impositions.
What about the people, I have been with?
I have kissed beautiful woman,
Watched them sleep,
Greeted the dawn with my need.
Where are they? Their memories?
With the poems I gave them,
It seems that they too are long gone.

Just like my words,
Huh, traveling into the lost space,
Regardless of time, they stay,
And one fine day,
You will read this form of my claims,
When I rest by the eternal lake,
You will say,
Oh, that’s his name,
And what wonders he says!

Afterall, even if lost,
How senseless will be living alone,
Each word you read transmute my being,
I am a poet driven by insane needs,
To exist in you with your space,
To deceive you with your time,
My immaterial lazy mind,
Repeating the same line,
What is my name?

Into the Sea of Trees (Part-2)

Laying on the bed,
Blood Rushing into the head,
Hitting corners to fall asleep,
Waking up from dreams in certainties.

Slowly, the wooden finish of the wall is dying,
It will come alive with branches catching hold of my lies,
For me, this place is home, when its rooted in my mind,
Darkroom, dwelling green leaves,
Destiny, pilling up dreams and fantasies.

I hold the bed, the bark of a lonely breeze,
A forest flying upon my needs,
Oh beautiful birds, they call me,
Symphonies dancing in silence,
The heart so numb as timeless.

I am alone here, with thoughts as lucid as space,
In my room, with bricks interstellar for the rain,
And soon the stars shall fall tonight,
So close to my numb heart,
Beating along its cardiac bundles of arrest,
Oh dear, a lucid space and rain,
As tempting, I grabed the bed sheet and returned again.

I opened my eyes to the bricks suffocating me and blocking my subconscious. I just had to sleep again, it will be stronger this time, the forest of my thoughts. It will be the second time I lose myself. I slammed the patch on my right hand, pushing it hard on my skin. Laid and waited for the angel of oblivion to decorate my metaphysics of presence.

Quasar & Love

I am an astronaut, writing something after forty years, or maybe one, I can’t calculate. And I need to write this down, to confess what has happened to me, to hold on to my crisis. I was in love, and we were lost in the stars together, literally. I don’t know about her, don’t need to, for I was all in the oblivion of space.

The spaceship broke down. From Earth to Detroit, the planet where we were supposed to land for the research. The spaceship broke down and Manik died, he was not wearing the spacesuit. Alex was with me, fixing the oxygen supply,  we floated away from the explosion to unknown infinities.

There are certain ideas that float around in the darkness, the idea of love, of being lost, of being alone. I came to space, for there were fewer things on Earth to live for, but it seemed that space ironically did not hold the capacity to undertake emotions.

I was in love with Alex, and I suppose any two humans can fall in love when lost. I cant say that about the earth, but we were clearly in the space, lost. I was lost in love. We waited to die, the oxygen tanks were remunerated to synthesis oxygen. Oxygen could not kill us. She asked me to break her case, to push my head into the glass, so that she can be one with the universe, and not alone, lost in the darkness with me. But, I. I still had the faith of being sucked into the existential plane somehow, moreover, I loved her.

We floated in space for some time. You see, even time cannot exist in the dark. We don’t know about the day and the night, but the fact, that we are lost. She slept a couple of times, and I had to hold her suit, I could not afford to lose the sight of Alex. I did not sleep, I had a feeling she will drift away.

Soon, I passed out into my subconscious. Death? Yes, very close.

But I am writing this, sitting on an unknown planet, just like ours, but not ours. I don’t know where Alex is, I don’t know earth exists. Whether they exist. They say there is a black hole, names Quasar nearby the planet and I was sucked into the warm hole to land on a space station.

I wish I had died, I see her everywhere. She is gone, of course. Everything, one day or the other gets to be one with the universe, I will have my day.

But, one thing that suffocates me in the natural air of this alien land, is the fact, that I never really knew the women I loved. Those two times, she fell asleep, I could feel my heart beat, just looking at her alone in the void, all mine, yet gone.

She never felt that way for me, of course. She was a scientist, a practical head, she knew, we could not live, together, forever, in the darkness. She wanted to leave the darkness, once in for all. It is alright, she was humane in our insane quest to death.

You see, what kills me, is knowing that I never knew Alex and I still fell for her. She rarely spoke a few words in front of me, but I as the imaginary head created this whole story up for my diary entry.

I created the earth, space, Manik, Alex and my alien persona just to know that I never knew any girl I loved.

But this new world is greeting me well, I am imaginatively disturbed but well aware of the new place, where realisation hit me hard and I fall at times, yet the black hole that consumed my space-time for me to stay alive on this new planet was the saviour.

I was lost, therefore I loved.

For now, when I hit the rock bottom,

I am, confused.

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