55 - Fangs

My another blog where I write for a cause; for a small group of Coalesced feathers of helping hearts; Siragugal
http://siragugal-in.blogspot.in/2012/08/ff-fangs.html

-Sathish

The inverted exclamation - Exaltation yet another part

I was walking, in fact wandering, retrospectively and saw her under the sun and she proved the prose ‘nothing new under the sun’ is just for a pun.  My throbbing heart wanted to put her under the shade so I plucked it out using a blade, and gave it to the divine earth allowing my eyes to fade.  Burying alive is painful but kind of exaltation. May be not, but leaving it alive throbbing could be  sinful because it stays caged with no relation.   And it sprouted in a second and grown a wild tree, wide spread in a minute.  She didn't come near so the tree which has grown out of my throbbing heart asked for help from the neighboring trees, not sure even those are born out of similar hearts, to shake wild and change the wind and the direction it blew.  They proved they are the branches of longing hearts, as the trees changed the course of the wind, curtains of the sky gathered together and blessed her with their sprinkles of love from the heaven and made her to search for a temporary haven.

crtsy: flickriver.com

She realized that the sprinkles of love touching without her permission, she do not know it is a different mission, though she enjoyed the chillness of the air and the droplets from heaven, she came running towards the tree that grown from my heart, which is throbbing still, she reached the tree and shivered because of chillness.  Wiping the dew from her rosy cheeks, she blew it in the air and that touched the root where my heart is burning.  The surfing and suffering was blown away with the drops of beauty she had thrown. 

Knowing not what to do, she grabbed a sharp dagger like metal piece from the ground and with that she started piercing a small part of the trunk, wondering what is she doing, she was in process of embedding her name in the trunk.  She do not know it is their already their but invisible.  Invisible! No, it is all around the trunk, every layer of my heart, may be because of which she could not observe it. 

Taking few long minutes, she wrote her name on my heart, bit long name.  She ended with an inverted exclamation mark to make me wonder how much her father and mother could have wondered looking at her beauty and named her with an inverted exclamation. 

The clouds exhausted and stopped pouring.  And her mission completed in marking her presence under the tree.  She ran away with smile and I waited for her to disappear but after few steps she turned back, looked at her curving on trunk, smiled and few more happy steps she disappeared.  With occult blessing of love I transformed the tree in to my heart again, dug the earth and found my heart still alive and throbbing.  Placed it again inside and everything started functioning normally and my brain as usual abnormally. 

The pain, I felt in my heart was heavy and increased with every beat.  Is it something abnormal, the occultism did not work properly or the mud that has covered it when it was under the earth causing the pain.  Few long seconds of scan I found the reason, though painful I loved it.

 

She has forgotten to take the dagger out from the trunk when she finished placing the dot over her inverted exclamation mark.

Darling angel...

Darling angel;  

not my original angel, stolen from google

I thought it is lust or the crush,

that makes me owe for love

But it makes me feverish in mind,

O! That’s divine, it’s

something that spreads in my neural ravine

Oh! I am still fine.

Though many surround and

when you are around,

You pull me with your smile 
and throw me in air

and I don’t know, could be a mile

You make the air romantic and me frantic

Thou art my love, though everything looks dramatic

Angel, my angel,

Somebody asked me to show the mother of beauty

they might have thought I will show you as my deity 

but I didn't show you my deity; though you are lovely, 

 but question is the mother of beauty

I said, 'I still didn't meet her mother', sweetly.

Exaltation...

He felt his little heart is not enough to carry the love he posses towards her, he felt he is too small to hold the immaculate feel that love gives and he felt that that’s the reason his love never touched her.  So then he decided…

She placed her bare foot on his naked bosom; with no lust he loved it.  Chillness of her palm killed him to get up and hug her but he didn’t do. Slowly, with her thumb, she dug his chest, that has hurt his bosom and a mild pain spread all over with pleasure.  He was enjoying it.  It has been years together he waited for that moment. 

Her fifth finger, small and sharp scratched his chest here and there.  Looked like Ishtar has crowned it for its beauty or maybe she didn’t cut her nails properly. 

His soul urged to burst out from inside, pull her to him closely and tightly to get inside her, embrace her neck with lips and whisper ‘my love, I will come to you as I always do at least next time do not hesitate’ in her ear.  He didn’t do it, she would not listen.

He cannot cry now, but it rained.  He thought she would run away but she didn’t. Drizzling embraced her free flowing hair and drops of rain stuck to her hair here and there like the diamonds arrangement on an ornament.  Breeze entered her long bunch of hair to get replenished with romance.  Chillness touched her, she shook her head and the romance sprinkled all over in the air and few drops touched him to suffice his burning soul.

A drop walked down slowly on her forehead and reached her nose and its tip, then finally reached her rosy lips. 

‘O lovely drop of rain, tell me how beautiful is her forehead I never looked at her continuously more than a second, tell me how sharp is her nose, did it hurt you? If so you are blessed.  I waited to feel that pain for very long time.  And tell me, O divine drop of rain, how soft is her lips, how many lines have you read there of the poetry of beauty between the lines of the wrinkles.  Is it soft as rose, tasty as honey, O godly drop of rain, please tell me I never reached her so closely’ 

Scattering the dream of that water drop to get inside her mouth and to become a pearl, she blew it from her lips and that touched his bosom. 

‘O man lying here, I never felt divine until I walked on her forehead, I never knew pain gives pleasure until her sharp nose pierced me, and, I know only to fall from heaven to earth and never have fallen in love, never have seen a little angel with so much of beauty and never have felt so much of romance until I reached her lips.  It is softer than any softest rose bud, sweeter than any sweetest honey.  I never knew death is exaltation until she blew me to earth to touch you’

He felt his little heart is not enough to carry the love he posses towards her, he felt he is too small to hold the immaculate feel that love gives and he felt that that’s the reason his love never touched her.  So then he decided to get out of his mortal body to become everything this universe has and to become the universe itself.

He could not stop himself to get up, come out.  An earthquake hit the area, she was shocked.  She took her broken sandals in her hand and ran away from the place.

Before he left his mortal being he said, ‘Let her not know, but bury me on the way to her home, let her not know. A day will come, she will stop and walk over my bosom with her naked foot, and my soul will rest in peace.  But tell her I will come back to her even incarnation after incarnation just to win her heart.’

 On the way to her home, bury me.  I will rest in peace.



Image : google.com

say you are mine...

…you raise it and slow it as if it is yours, as if you hold the accelerator in your hand.  It is not a plaything painted in red for you to play with it like a kid. It inhales the red water and exhales it not with the glimpse of your eyes that is how not it has been designed but fortunately that is what happens. Stop not your glimpses; let me live.

Image from google.com

You hurt me always like a child hurts her mother’s bosom; let it be with any angry or anything, it neither gives anguishing pain nor torment in any of the mother’s veins but a sense of feel of attachment, a selfish motherly love.

In your vanity I enjoy the joy of being hated by a little angel.  There is no tradition in the past or present to love not the one who hates.  I still adore your vanity admire your pride.  You are my pride, what not even if you do not want to be my bride you are still my pride.  Falling in love with an angel is not just a just fact it take hundreds of years to realize the love, incarnation after incarnation, which is above what the humans are blessed with.   How long I can wait! Though it might take hundreds of long years for an angel to realize my love, how long can I wait!  

Till the masterful sun burns itself to nothing – I can wait, till the day the shameless moon stops begging light from the earth – I can wait.

Sometimes, in night mother sleeps leaving her child in the cradle and a sudden cry makes her wake up to cradle her baby to and fro and that is how you wake me up in the mid nights with your gestures in dreams and oscillates my mind to and fro.  You crawl in my mind in my neural ravine, and instead of reaching my brain you reach my heart.

You taught me how to persevere in any pain, though, with diminishing confidence but what is the relationship between love and confidence.  Mine is not a war to acquire any land or wealth it’s a tradition of perseverance for winning a beautiful heart of goddesses of wealth.  Though it’s a diminishing confidence, no mother stops feeding her child just for a reason her child bit her bosom the last time; only a motherly love knows the treasure in the pain.

…exiled, I feel, when you turn your back to me and unbelievably I feel venerable when I thought I still love you.  The days without you were the days in the space – I neither I grow old nor young – where time do not exist.

Will a day come, you will sit next to me looking at something else and I will be looking at you alone and nothing else.  I will try my best to make you understand what I have gone through being in love, being alone thinking just of you. 

What if you didn’t understand? What if you do not want to hear me? What if you do not want me to talk about the past?

But …if you pull me towards you, grabbing my checks with your rosy hands and say ‘I am yours’

...say you are mine

...say you are mine.

Aham Brahmasmi!

Born out of love, humanity, I have everything this universe has in it.  I am everything, the god and the evil, the creator and the annihilator, the man and the women, love and hate, a sadhu and a rapist, an imperialist and communist, an antagonist and a comrade, dagger and the blood, disease and medicine, ailing and the  healing, a beast and the pray, mud and the water, creation and destruction and I am the reason for everything and every things reason is me, I am all in one and the one in all; Aham Brahmasmi.

I can chop the devils among me in to pieces and pieces and pieces with my sword and take out the nerves out from the hand of the one who touches a kid to rape and hang him with same nerves.  I can pierce the fine needles into the eyes of the racist to reach his brain to take out the very cell that made him a racist.  I can take the bones out of the legs which can walk and still steels the happiness of a kid to make him beg. I can tear the one into two, legs apart, the one who crushed a woman in lust. I can take all the sins and can sleep tranquilly in the cross. I am the sin and I am the healing; Aham Brahmasmi.

I suffer for love and I am the one who make few suffer for love.  I am the poverty and richness, the money and the food, the giving and the taking, the heart and the beat, the breath and the lungs, the cells and the tissues, depression and the obsession, the motivation and discouragement.   I am the fear, the tear, the longing, the sex, the lust, the gene, womb, fetus, new born, well grown, young, the very old.  I am the birth and I am the death.

I can make the young an old, who made his own old homeless, and make his young to make him homeless.  I can squeeze the intestine of a woman who hates feeding the old of his home and I can protect her when she becomes old.  I can be a walking stick of the elder ones and act as a plastic leg of the one who lost his own.  I can be a trap of man eaters and the law to punish it. 

I am the water, the fire, the pyre, the air, the contamination, the pollution, the science, an atheist, a scientist, a theists, the music, the sound, the noise, the voice, the peace, the calamity, the religion, the cast, the creed, the fight, the war, the source, the fuel, the scarcity, the surplus, the intelligence, the foolishness, the countries, the continents, the earth, the world, the space, the light and I am the universe spread out in the space and the space spread out in universe; Aham Brahmasmi

I wage war for land and quake it to eat the man, I am the weapon and I am the destruction of the one who hold it, I grow the humanity and make them drown into the sea.  I am the reason for religion and the blood I spill for my religion.  I am the caste and creed and the separation among myself, I am everything.  I can peel the skin of the one who kills in the name of religion and fights in the name of caste.  Ignorance, I cannot bless, I can kill the ignorant and I am the ignorance.

I am everything you see, the humanity, I hold everything in one place and the one I hold in one place is everywhere.  And what a human is what one provokes. Aham Brahmasmi.


img crtsy : google

...the power

When the first drop of the drizzle got evaporated by the thickest flame, I thought water is not so powerful, fire is the most powerful.  And another drop, another drop and another drop slowly fire turned to fumes and in sometime there are fumes, only fumes.  Where went the fire, the powerful flame that evaporated the first drop of drizzle?  And what is this fume from where this came?  Could not be the mixture of water and fire be fume but what is fume? It is neither vapor of the water nor the power of the fire but toxic feeling of the combination I guess.  Is fume more powerful than water and the fire since it irritates the eyes to make it burn and again it makes it to shed water, I feel fume is powerful, now the fire and tear or in same place.   Along with whatever the fume brings it also tries makes one to suffocate, stops the breathing, spread the toxic feel across the physical and vital parts, sometimes the over consumption challenges the immaculate string that God holds in his hands which is connected to human hearts at the other end.  When all these things are at one side, and when the droplets stops kissing the fire flames and a tiny, very tiny spark which was hiding itself in a corner of a corner rejuvenates the ignition and the fire kills the fume and brings the life back to the heart. 

Though everybody knows this is what happens to anybody in love, who believes!



img crtsy : google