The art of listening

How often do you listen to yourself,

When you know that you know better than you think.

When the hand starts to shiver,

There is the start of the battle, that you only can feel.

When the heart skips the beat,

Some people think its romantic!

How often do you listen to yourself,

When someone makes your stomach churn,

When your own decision feels like someone pushing the buttons.

How often do you listen to yourself,

When your dreams repeat the story,

The reality you don’t want to see.

How often do you listen to yourself,

When your yes keeps on haunting you,

Because you are too afraid,

What the No would do.

So tell yourself

How often do you listen to yourself.

Anything but,

Can I be the air, that blows without going anywhere,

but be everywhere.

Can I be the earth that does not get sad when stepped on,

but be the ground for roots to stand strong.

Can I be the water that flows without destination,

Every droplet, No race From ocean, To ocean, In ocean

It just always flows without any winner.

Can I be the fire that burn as it fits,

not feeling guilty or proud

For engulfing whole forests,

Or keeping it warm, the night and skin.

Can I be in anyway, anything but I,

In the home state, where these spirits reside.


Disclaimer: Nothing I write is true, universal or a fact; except what i just wrote.

Who is to say what the truth is, how can anyone say what anything is.

All that I write, all that I express,

Is only a truth that I believe in.

I can be dishonest or better word ignorant,

And say I know what all of this is.

But how can an identity know,

what the eternal whole is.

The identity always is loyal to its story,

And its story evolves as the identity sees fit.


F [ The weight is being lifted,

The blind spot finally seen.

In this form, the day is 10343;

I am more by removing all that is not uplifting me.

Intuitions, They nudge me,

They persist, till I acknowledge them.

The moments I registered,

harmless as they seemed

but so important when I look back to actually understand them.

Everything has way to balance itself,

An action has a reaction to itself.

Years ago still comes back in sensation,

Jung said, to see things as they are is true wisdom.

Glossing over the hurt does not eradicate the presence of hurt,

Healing only begins when there is acceptance of hurt. ] F

A { To give loyalty, friendship and the promise of being there,

I wont be unfaithful to my own soul, being and my existence. } A

An Ode to her

It would be preferable to not have any form,

Just the energy and its source warm,

No need to be this or that

On this stage to perform.

Although, this is what I was given to work with.

No pride or arrogance but the constant observer speaking.

Observing every adversities and the dirt around,

Trying to drag this being down,

She didn’t use force, but she transformed,

She didn’t curse, but she moved on.

She might have thought of giving up,

But she still continued betting on her strength.

She says kill me or I become stronger,

She says I live so I will prepare,

For there is more to come.

Energy of the source she is,

But I am proud of the person she is.

Going back in time, I see her strength,

And Coming back to time , I remember who she is.

Before and now, they have their hush voices and rumours,

But maybe she is more interesting than their own lives and mirrors.

She was the warrior,when they saw a kid,

She is a fighter, defending her will to live.

It will be preferable to not have any form,

But if there is a choice again, her’s is what I bet on.


Buddha said, that suffering is an inevitable part of living.

It is caused by desires and attachments,

Suffering can be eliminated or managed by

Re-calibrating those desires and attachments.

The desires and attachments are many for the many individuals;

And the root cause of suffering is the attachment to the perception of an ‘identity’ and the desire to fulfill that ‘identity’.

These ‘identities’ are like the puzzles with ever-changing puzzle pieces,

We find one piece and the other piece somewhere else changes, changing the whole puzzle.


Making the task of finishing the puzzle and fulfilling the identity unending and unreachable.

If ‘I’, the identity is bound by the desires and attachments,

And the desires and attachments are bound to the identity ‘I’;

Therefore, ‘I’ is bound to ‘I’.

Freedom is for the (no)one, who sees the puzzle and its puzzle pieces,

For what they are and not what (no)one is.

The World is made of you and me

Is it a cruel world,

Or this day is just one of those ones.

Most likely it is the latter one,

But the world and its character still begs to be questioned.

It is not far fetched,

for the cruelty verdict

with way too many evidences,

I hurt, you hurt and so does everyone, we are the one who makes up this ‘world’,

What do we make of that hurt (individually),

Do we hurt more or we take one step back

To heal and break the cycle, Once and for all.


The ones with the knife and the ones cut by it,

Are both so similar,

That given another circumstance,

They are very easily interchangeable.

Like the Ocean Waves

Longing for them,

I feel this heart loving them.

It is not the longing to be near,

But it is for them to be alright, in clear.

It is okay, to be here,

As I still feel them as real, in here.

The ultimate thing I could need for us,

Is for you to smile and for me to see that sight.

The distance of the physical world,

I would appreciate and not curse.

It did brought me to realization

That you are not far, but away a thought.

And the meaning, the feeling of your entity

sweeps in and embraces me warm,

like a blanket made of sunshine,

protecting, uplifting and loving me unconditional.

The vision of you is enough,

To send love, healing and peace your way.

The faith of it reaching you is like knowing,

That one wave of the ocean

Will move the other wave,

No matter how big the ocean.

A valley far away…

An open night sky,

The stars and the moonlight.

In a valley, somewhere far away,

A traveler with a small lit fire.

Burning still strong,

enough to be seen

among the magnificent grandness.

River flowing nearby, heard but not visible,

Assuring and sending the signs of life.

The Flowers among the grass

gives away

a fragrance so sweet,

Yet so mightily bright

even among the darkness of night.

The grass, like a mother

soft and comforting.

The fire in the dark,

Like a father,

Standing between you and the world.

Drifting into a sleep, with the starlit sky,

Knowing you will be alright,

After a restful night.


You are a feeling to me,

that arises in your presence, your voice, your name, your thought.

You are the comfort during my perseverance,

You are the safety during my uncertainties,

You are the joy of belonging,

When I am the loneliest.

You are my mother, my father, my friends dearest.

You have different forms and names outside,

But the feeling that arises, Its all inside.

The form will change and mold with time,

But nothing can ever erase what I feel inside.

Even when I vanish and become the air breathed,

The love I feel for you/ by you,

Will still be in those tiny specks;

That makes a breeze