There is no question,
And no questioning.
When the celestial forces command,
You must obey.

They stand greater than you,
Larger, taller.
The large will pick upon the small.
So bow and be meek.

You must do as they say.

Check the heavens every darkness,
Look for the messages they send to you,
Written out in stars, far above.

These pinpricks,
Breaking the black, giving light,
Look peaceful, beautiful, from here,
But closer to the burning ball of fire,
I'm sure the beauty is harder to behold.

And so we move ever forward,
Urged further, further,
By all that is bigger than ourselves.
Coerced into continual mobility.

On a night I feel has been well lived
met is her sweet becoming gaze
that savory ocular innocence
built to shadow her soft, fluid, longing intent
that whispers,
"I am open to you."

And so she calmly is
and with my head
full of rocks and irrelevance
I unconsciously enter
and sigh

Once, again, twice more
our love traces a metronome
So soon does it become
an inhale
exhaled
I lean into her
limbs aside
in a love extension
a vital push through tension
and the small red brook that follows
flows to fill a page
and rest a mind

Living and dying
are not so dissimilar from
swimming upstream
and being pushed
by the current
downstream,
respectively.

It is not a matter of
how well equipped you are
to swim upstream,
It is, however,
a matter of application.
-30/30-
--
Death is a wondrous thing:
not in that I envy the dead
but in that it so defies language.

Death, of itself, is a rather dull topic. Uninteresting.
But the implications of the asymmetrical nature of Life
reflect many of those we theoretically deduce and induce of the Universe itself.

We, and all the things around us,
are but spontaneous expressions and manifestations
of that which defies description.

We arise, we exist, and we return again.

It defies description not because no one has experienced it,
or because we don't try to translate it when we do experience it,
but rather because no one has the capacity
to translate this experience
into the languages we happen to use
such that
it can be shared with others
much less
become common knowledge.
(Assuming also that others would be willing and able to understand)

In fact, I feel that we've all died already.
Maybe once, maybe an infinite number of times.
We just can't seem to recall it,
and even if we do,
it mocks us with it's ineffability:

I feel that death is the inevitable night
from which one awakens
at the dawn of the day of one's Life.

*Circles beget Spirals.

I can not stay still.
I'm not of wood
But of water.

If I remain still I grow stale
Become useless to all,
And harmful to those who try drink me.

He tried to hold me back with anger,
With lingering glares
And wolfish growls.

He tried to hold me back with pity,
With new found pleasures he'd never tasted before
With words to prove his mind was similar to my twisted own.

He tried to hold me back with promises,
Of change and getting better
And everything being perfect in the end.

I would not have it.

I am water,
And not meant to be contained.

in the oven of the mind,the words are baking

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
27.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish