Saturday, July 24, 2010


There is no end,
As end itself will have to end
And that end will again have to end.
In the end, where is the end?

There is no beginning,
Because that beginning too had a beginning.
And that beginning would also have had a  beingging,
In the beginning, where is the beginning?

Yet, some converge and others diverge,
Is this a state of existence?
What is existence,
But life in present tense?

Are facts ratified imagination?
Is imagination a preconditioned causation.
Does everything move on cue?
How did we know what to?

Is God a belief,
To get a bubble relief?
Or the variable,
That completes the constant?

Is this even real?
Yet I have a penchant.

For what is infinite,
Can be known, if we know what is finite.

I let something guide me.
Instinct? God? Angle? Devil?
I call it light.

I believe.
There is no leap of faith,
This is faith.

I am immortal- till I die.
I am mortal- till I really live.

I exist because I think.
I think, I think.

This assured silence,
Has voices behind,
Masked by my mind.

Choice is perennial,
Choosing is constant,
The choices are variables.

It is not science.
It is not art.
It is not poetry.
It is not music.
It is not reality,
Unless you believe it to be.

The only justice in this world is poetic.
The only fact is scientific.
The only beauty is art.
The only sound is music.

Nothing exists, unless you believe.
This dream, is everything,
Till you dare to call it nothing.


The light shines the brightest
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