The monastery is closed today.
But some are eternally attentive.
You never need to drop in or drop out.
Like Love.
The one who falls out of love, wasn't in love at all.
Abstraction is deep, profound and ambivalent.
It hides everything, but means something.
Something that could be fundamentally different.
Different from how it blossomed in thought.
Yet, somehow the readers interpretation is;
Often more plausible than the writer's analogy.
Like Life.
Its not where, how and when you were born;
Is not all that matters. Its what you make of it.
Every parent is proud of his or her child.
Their frames of reference is smeared of heedless concern.
Like Home.
Even a derelict roof could mean a home.
The process, the architecture, the compound;
That would solidify in a trance of culture.
Its winds snaking on its surface to etch
Grooves of character, the sieve that would be
A sieve through which a similar wind would gush.
When its time will come.
Like a Civilization.
I've been far, from what I call my own.
But in the end, no amount of wanderlust;
No scene of rejuvenation, no abode of respite;
Could stop the doodling steed of a traveler;
Like Me.
Love. Life. Home. Civilization. Me.
I am back.
But some are eternally attentive.
You never need to drop in or drop out.
Like Love.
The one who falls out of love, wasn't in love at all.
Abstraction is deep, profound and ambivalent.
It hides everything, but means something.
Something that could be fundamentally different.
Different from how it blossomed in thought.
Yet, somehow the readers interpretation is;
Often more plausible than the writer's analogy.
Like Life.
Its not where, how and when you were born;
Is not all that matters. Its what you make of it.
Every parent is proud of his or her child.
Their frames of reference is smeared of heedless concern.
Like Home.
Even a derelict roof could mean a home.
The process, the architecture, the compound;
That would solidify in a trance of culture.
Its winds snaking on its surface to etch
Grooves of character, the sieve that would be
A sieve through which a similar wind would gush.
When its time will come.
Like a Civilization.
I've been far, from what I call my own.
But in the end, no amount of wanderlust;
No scene of rejuvenation, no abode of respite;
Could stop the doodling steed of a traveler;
Like Me.
Love. Life. Home. Civilization. Me.
I am back.
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7 comments:
you sure are.. BACK! lets meet up sometime.. wat say..raviji.. gud to see the equity of my blog rising inthe exalted echelons of ur blogdom.. hahaha... dude.. when u gt five-star like hotels and wifi in the campus.. and sagar ratna and a stores inside the campus.. you gotta miss it...
and tht was 'hostels.. and not hotels.. jst cant help it.. they r fuckin hotels
nice way with words you have,
keep up the good work and cool design on the blog
ola senoir ... yeh kya ho raha hai !!! amazin stuff this time, saale raat ko jag kar yehi kar raha hai kya ???
no fight still good, as we have come to expect from you my boy ...
keep posting
(and joggin too)
i was looking out for this one for sometime now .. back !!
absolutely ..completely ..without any further doubt or ado ...
watch out ppl .. ravi is back in full form ... !! :)
Hi Ravi,
What a lovely piece.
Thank you for leaving your comments on my blog. Much appreciated. The piece that I refer to is a piano accompaniment in C minor. I donot have any other details, and I could be wrong about what I just said too.
Anyway, I think I have an mp3 file on the desktop at home. Will email it to you soon. Maybe you can tell me what it is.
Broadening. Take the mind, mix it up and you have ... life.
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