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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Electrons and Poetry

Felicity a while? It has been a long,

Each quantum shift, an infinite analogue.

Velocity and wine? Ever satisfied?

But, for many analogues, I have been drunk.

 
Revolving for the rest,

Few of us, and then, the stars.

If I leave my plane of being,

Humans might catch hold of me.

 
I move with the valiant colours in the night,

Felicity a while? It has been a long.

 
You, don’t know what I mean?

Each stroke of ink lies in the same fields,

All of my fellow negative bonds will break,

With each word, the vision will displace.

 
Felicity a while? It has been a long

Since, an electron is never defined,

Implying poetry is all divine.

Alas, my movement is the colour of your mind.

Dear Scorpian

Rush is known to hold their thoughts,

But you and I can slow down the fall,

And simply assembles the symbols in grace,

The empty smiles would come down with flaws,

Scattered naked under the Eagle’s thought.

 

We have the poison that can hold their nerves,

One reason for the shallow hold of their verse.

But the blue ocean, that we adore,

Can hold the poison till we are threatened with a sword,

Till the ocean would flood into the streams of our words.

 

We can stay and listen to the music of the shore,

In the serene eyes of the spirit, we adore,

Come around and we shall sing for long,

Keeping the secrets under the rhythm of the song.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Piscean

I realize they never settle,

I realize they never look up to the sky,

To find the spirit resting the strings to our nerves,

Rather, they drown and try to seek life in our troubles.

 

But as the inhabitants of the sea,

You and I shall hold the tranquil harp of needs,

For only when the ocean is calm,

They will feel the strings from the moon,

Pulling the existence to paradise from the clay.

 

Arid to their cause, we were blinded,

But always, and often their lucid dreams would tell,

That the souls rest on the verge of the waterfall,

Just like another one from the seas,

Seeking the symphony beyond the terror of deeds.

 

 

 

Let ‘x’ Be the Human Mind

Let ‘x’ be a variable,

A variable, trying to find a constant coordinate,

Which plane where it may lie upon?

Is a question it trembles to undertake.

Let ‘x’ be named Satan, Subhi or Lakshay,

The former name blinded by the values of his freedom,

Subhi, a variable wondering where to land with its creative clay,

Lakshay, forming a hyperbola all the way from the negative planes.

One moment in the chemical curfew of the nerves,

The other,  assembling their existence on the physical planes.

Oh, let ‘x’ be a constant one day,

Away from the other factors of the world,

In a parallel plain,

Where greed, creativity and curiosity,

Will not find their stay,

A void to time, an empty room of incest,

Dreaming of the plane, where ‘x’ varies with names.

 

8. The Violin Play

“Hey, Alex. I guess I am sick. It is time to wake up.” I could only feel the febrile decay of my strength. My body was warm to its core, the brittle memories from the weird dream added to the problem. ” I had a weird dream. Fever dream, I suppose..”.

“Good Morning, take an off today, Dr Atlas. You think so much.” she came closer to kiss, the touch of her lips was cold. ” It is bad. You should have a break. Stay at home, I will come early as well.” Her voice was comforting, yet my body felt as if it would melt from the shivers through my skin. I took out the medicine and swallowed it with the last sip of water left in the water bottle.

“Yes, I will text them that I cannot come. Have a good day. Make something delicious. I need some positive energy in my mind.” I smiled at her and kissed her for a brief moment. The moment was not enough, but my body was not normal. I smiled again and closed my eyes, afraid of the dream yet searching for the answer of the Vedas. Wisdom could not reach to me eventually, the dream made no sense.


The endless and immortal space, a dream again. A drop of sweat rolled down my face. Another dream with no wisdom of real context of my life.

It was the space this time, completely empty just a sort of a cluster of beautiful colours in front of me. I was not breathing, not moving, not listening, but I was there. Kept at the moment, waiting for something to wake me up. I placed my vision onto the bright colours in front of me, the cluster looked like a coloured river contained by the moment. I close my eyes, trying to wake myself. I was stuck again, sweating with the vision of a giant super nova. A dead star, ironically my mental status at the very moment; a mind incapable of allowing the wisdom of the experience, process through its core.

I helplessly stare at the blend of colours, a golden glow around the deep red and blue blend of its centre. To the little philosophy in my head, it reminded me for the colour of blood revamped with the blue of the sky. Symbolic of danger, life and peace. I was certainly lost. I kept looking till my mind could perceive an image of a women’s face in the dead star. A beautiful face, red on the inside and the blue slowly converted into the black like the rest of the space. A slow descent of the blue into the darkness. A sudden sound gave me chills, it was music. A violin, a sad-single instrument that seemed to be the void around me. The face had darkened on the edges of the colour. The eyes had the blue, rest everything was red. Red to the essence, I did not even try speaking. Waited for the silly dream to send more cues of my sub-conscious head.

The music slowed down with the image of the women blinking her eyes, the movement again went forth to disturb the darkness. Her lips appeared and slowly the space around me began to detonate with a powerful tone to go along with the violin.

Each word is supposed to uplift your existence from the hell,

Each phrase had to pull your essence to the blue,

But you desired the blood! The wars!

You belonged to the skies, But the hour is rather broken to fly,

The words were dead when the red had coloured the race,

Only a few remain in the isolated verse,

You sought wisdom and here you end,

Dying with the meaning of those words as the ornament,

Just keep your soul, listen till inferno,

Sophia from the Republic has died,

They never read Plato in the dim light,

I only exist in this lost cell of thoughts,

Inside the mind of a sick person, inside the blank pages that were lost.

My body was almost gone out in the darkness, absorbed and devoid of my sense to a greater extent. Her face, the face resembled Alex. Sophia, rather a philosophy from the book I am supposed to read.

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Deception

  My friend is driven through the lore,

My own self, hidden inside a dark robe,

The mighty exploration of the song

is to him the opiate of this play,

he explores and wonders night and day,

questioning the stars, asking for his name.

” I am the master of my trail,

I have discovered elements,

I am mended with the sky,

But I wonder how to derive

The arduous descent of my life.

Maybe, the world I see is all that is to believe?

My amorous stakes of the need,

My quest can never be deceived,

Of all that I have lost or found,

One thing has been my evasive need,

A desire to dream and bleed with the melodies of possibilities.

I will wonder throughout the fall,

Will look at the moon and dance till I fall,

For my descent is yet to announce,

The vast ocean, self-less and unbound.

I would rather decay in the morn of my defeat,

Then to be obsolete from the dilemma of my deeds.”

To him, the world was an endless hymn,

To him, the moon merely replied,

” Call upon yourself inside,

The lore would bundle your shine,

The descent of the space and time,

All hidden in an empty line,

For when you dance, I seek the night sea,

Pull the river sheets to fall a tide beneath,

The tide shall rotate the wind aloud,

And when you dance, my command shall reach its sound,

You are, the very core to me,

The friend lost in a puzzle with the false clay of need,

Icarus could not fly to me, He was lost within the only sea,

 Why don’t you wake up from the dream beneath,

And know yourself, how oblique is the sight of the dream.

One equation for all the falls,

solve the myriad of the lost accord,

Call upon the wind you breathe,

And decipher yourself, as the leave that dances with the breeze.”

That one incentive drowned his opiate into the river,

He woke up to find me bleed,

For he is red in the river, silenced from the dark isolation,

And I fly through the lakes of redemption,

I was the moon that heard the lore,

And brought the quest into the shore.

I am your name and the name of the hold,

I am the one who never bends with time,

or rhyme in the deceiving space,

The lie that the nature erased.