Sans Self

I wake up to this weird feeling
that there is no knowing me

This shape is strange
the skin, unfamiliar

the lopsidedness of my head
carved on the one side

then there is the hair
found with freaky uncertainty

the oddness of it all
overwhelming in its sincerity

amused at my humanness
wanting another way to be

unclad and uncouth
without shame, without beauty

to lay all of civilisation at my feet

and see my self as It is

Rand Revisited

There are times in your life when some long forgotten lines read long ago come back to you, these came to me like a randomly floating bubble that bursts on your head, sometimes its pleasant and the little droplets burst forth and  refresh and sometimes its glass, the shreds making you cringe  ( you never know what its going to be :) )

Here goes...

The great oak tree had stood on a hill over the Hudson, in a lonely spot on the Taggart estate. Eddie Willers, aged seven, liked to come and look at the tree. It had stood there for hundreds of years, and he thought it would always stand there... He felt safe in the oak tree's presence; it was his greatest symbol of strength.

One night, lightening struck the oak tree. Eddie saw it next morning. it lay broken in half, and he looked into its trunk as into a mouth of a black tunnel. The trunk was only an empty shell; its heart had rotted away long ago; there was nothing inside- just a thin gray dust that was being dispersed by the whim of the faintest wind. The living power had gone; and the shape it left had not been able to stand without it.

Years later, he heard it said that children should be protected from shock, from their first knowledge of death, pain or fear. But these had never scarred him; his shock came when he stood very quietly, looking at the black hole of the trunk. It was an immense betrayal- the more terrible because he could not grasp what it was that had been betrayed. It was not himself, he knew, nor his trust; it was something else...

(Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged)

Soul Blindspot

I know now, I have been forever hiding,

Like a newborn, I do not know if I come from light…

Or its darkness that I have left behind…

But it is blindness I see.

A sudden unforgiving blindness.

Maybe my shadow has caught up with me,

The darkness within that I couldn’t hold..

Can I burn these shadows down?

Can I shout this darkness away?

I hold my candle in my hand,

Watch the wax burn my skin,

Let the flames play in my hair…

The stench of truth singe my being

Ever so often life finds it there…

The blindspot in my soul

Where light does not live

And the vision of life itself fades into nothing.

 -22 years, 2010

In the Lair of Contentment

The sunlight fills the soul of blue…

Surrounded by the fading glory…

Of an ancient crown of green.

The keepers of the lair wherein I lay

My mind sails on the clouds that drift above,

Clearing the way for more wondrous worlds…

It is not in the beyond and hereafter

But in this fleeting flux, where lies my bliss

As the chariot of the Gods of flight

Cut across the lines of light,

I meditate upon my pointless path…

The gift of purpose is theirs; the joy in it is mine…

Like the little one relishes the gentle nudges of its nurse...

I feel the currents knead my back in this wooden lap..

As I await a playful Poseidon who shall rock my cradle…

And the curtains of contentment to fall upon me…

- 20 Years, 2008