When the poet is back, it feels like birds singing spring, when he has time again, in his heart, in his soul, to spread love with his words, to lay the notes he hears, share what he sees, nature becomes divine... again... reborn in his poetry!
The poet is back... Alleluia!
Today is going to sing, through your fingers flying on this guitar's strings, this year is going to rock through the rimes you find in any place, even mythical metallic bands!
Thank you for remembering... and reminding us...that beyond the pain, the sorrows of experiences, there is always life blossoming, and it is turned into a poem...
Many blessing to come...
only a good year to be harvested!
Blessed to be....
on your list, my dear friend Deepak!
" it’s the same train. it’s the same mail. perhaps it’s the same evening too. they say that time’s an illusion. i think about that sometimes. sampath just posted on fb a scan of a marketing examination that I had set for his batch more than half a decade ago. when I looked at it i wondered about the questions i had set. and smiled. when he looked at it he wondered about the answers he had written. and smiled. and for brief a moment we had transcended both time and space. and become just two smiling ends of one thought. i think about that too.
it’s the same train. it’s the same mail. it’s the same mountain. the same buffaloes grazing nonchalantly while the sun sets gently behind them. it’s the same smoke lazily making its way up while the fires hug the ground. the same boys chasing the same soccer ball on them same fields, kicking up the same dust that shimmers like a muslin curtain in that slanting dusk. and it’s the same guptajee feasting on this timeless scene - eyes bright, mouth agape, and the heart quietly listening . to this song of love eternal
it’s the same new year coming back again and again. the same new beginnings easing the same old pain. i am a child blissfully lost in the laps of the sages. i am a bird gone high on the rock of the ages. it’s the same old time but somehow its new. it’s the same old rhyme yet its different too. the river has flown, the cells have replaced. the heart has known, the mind has erased. time’s an illusion yet something shifts. loves a collusion and these are its gifts. the same train, the same mountain, the same sights for us to see. yet it’s the first time we are seeing each other and that’s the way will always be J
to paraphrase that “timeless” song that pink floyd actually intended to write J the sun is the same in a relative way and we are just bolder. longer in breath. and one eternal moment further from death.
they say a new year has come to be. here’s to all the new mondays of our destiny. may they be lived ever fresh, ever free"
