Note:-The first stanza is inspired by the poem "the brook".
And people may come
and people may go,
but in my eyes,
i live on forever.
For the world is nothing
but what i perceive
and a coloured chart
which has my blood
and my thoughts
as the hues which
lend it,its meaning.
Nothing is bigger than what i see
and nothing is smaller than what i see,
all are as free as i see them free.
Everything to me revolves around me
and imagination is a world where in
everything has its own capable need.
from nowhere descends thoughts,
except by instinct
and in it i will dwell till i go extinct.
Words are mere forms of expression
thinking the base to factual actualization.
Yet behind art lives a thought
which captivates and helps cultivate
a sense of belonging to fulfill
the aesthetic longing.
In a world of azure skies
and pretty ornaments
who skid along the vast screen-
as if my thoughts from somewhere
wanted to know the way to heaven's street,
walk across me-the belief that though
tangential might be the senses hold,
it is what helps us tell and be told.
At that point we see and try to be
and belong to this nether land
under the sky which holds the universe
and so the horizon dream.
History in yards and yards of cloth
and palm and paper and what not,
yet nothing can be learned
unless within them they have a yearn.
Tomorrow's life is today's dream
and yet today we see ourselves
the harbinger of our doom tomorrow.
Every step we take
and every action we commit and help make,
we induce and refuse the forces
within which act as the futures prefaces.
In grandeur and beauty we might fall,
yet their magic lasts as long as we a part.
And when the haze disperses,
we find in our mind's purses
that we have been spell bound
by something that was built with a pound
of flesh and ounce of blood
and beyond that the thoughts on which
the lusty past fed.
Yet in pitiable reverence we seek to praise
those who moved the stones
and covered a scar with a tattoo
instead of the thinker who
decided that it shall be made beautiful.
Want is creed essential
as belonging is vesper real.
for if not a faith be there
and if not a God to, we plead,
the only want which shall live
is that to live alone
and not the wish of some
glittering crown
nor the heart of rustic brown.
And to live we shall think
for survival is the base
and life the face,
and that face shall be clean
and serene just like
it should be-not with a hung
heart and a formless love,
but one which goes higher than the clouds.
Misery is not what your friend has
and you don't,but what you have
and that your friend doesn't.
Yet for the one who truly owes
there is no misery
as he is enough profound
to know what is the right sound
and in what he is bound.
Happiness is a spark
of madness ,where in the touch,
if sustained leads to joy-
wet paint
that can either portray a beggar,a saint
or a maid or a triad or natures marvelous
mysteries and life's magnanimity.
And in joy lies my eye
past misery and history
beyond the forest of trees
and gardens of vegetables and weeds,
where all that i see,
is a sensation which transforms
into me and my hands speak for me.
For never can the eye or hand lie,
the one who is controlled self
is all but his given his soul for theft.
Freedom is not buying wings
nor is it living in poverty
but seeking the pinnacle
which within you,you see.
And for humans and life, life
will flow on and things
might never end from here on
and since my life is all
but worth a vociferous bubble's
being,it is delight to be alive
albeit the grey illusions
that make neither day nor night.
There is only one fight
that is surely not for might is right.
Forever from the edge of a ocean
within me i travel with devotion-
to me and my proposition.
And people may come
and people may go
but in my eyes
i live on forever.
the light shines the brightest
