Thursday, October 16, 2008

The Ink of the Brain

We at el blogos strive to bring you the best of every culture (thats rite amigo), and of course today is no different! our latest writer, mushfique hails from the exotic maldivian islands, where he seeks to present his insights on life, struggles with the idea of living large, and of ghost and children in his little poem. come, discover, and be amazed!

The Ink of the Brain When things fall apart -
because taking notice of the admonition would not have done much of a difference.

There are a million and one reasons why we should've never grown up.
Died young just to please the old.
There are a million and one ways things could've turned out.

That's the thing about plans - they never work.
Ambition makes you look pretty ugly.

So what's this then, I don't know what led to this.

We've all had moments like that with you - but looking back to that night,
something was set in motion right then and there.
The sky was set to fall, from the Great Heights;
so we didn't dare look up.

How can something that grand create something like this. It can't be true.
Those train-tracks go everywhere all at once and so it's hard to tell where it goes
or comes back from. So we don't know where the monastics came from or went to.

I guess I can't even see it changing any time soon,
but I hope someday it makes sense to me.

Was it the easy way out?

Whatever it was, it's a pretty huge leap, see where it is today.
In a few days, weeks, months or in a year, look where it's at now.

So what's this then? You always hear about these things.
And in that moment, it never strikes to you as - real.

See, your mind has a few things that it has decided for itself that can not happen EVER,
and that list remains invisible.
However high the logical possibility of that happening is irrelevant to your mind.

It is epithet commonly awarded to humans.

Like fire shattering burnt wood,
it blinds you with brightness when it actually does happen.
You still think you're right, but you're wrong. It's difficult to look straight at it,
so you work yourself into a distraction and look elsewhere.
Away from the light he attained and the light he lives in,
but for you, you feel weary under it's shadow.
And they did not gladden it.

Then the ghost of what-could've-been skulks through the curtains,
when you least expect it.
It would fain be known but it's a tressure trove you will never salvage.

And if that ghost spoke, it would tell stories, it would laugh together over TV, it would sing songs, play guitars, play drums, make documentaries, it would be the big boss at work, it would fight over the remote control all in one night.

We should've never undermined you, the center of our little universe,
You are sacrosanct.
If only you chose to spread that thought over and above the bread infront of you.
Maybe that ghost would be a reality.

God loves His children
and does his children love God
and does His children love his children.

1 comments:

Tupps said...

Mushfique, I've not let my mind off the leash like that in a very long time.

I suppose what you were stating was that our reverence to whatever higher power out there should be something done mutually? I mean that is a tenet of life isn't it? The rule of outreached hands, the penalty of living, the desirous state that weak humans are so wont to get muddled in...

He should spread his butter alright, instead of wasting days zooming around in his little spaceship.

You amaze me Mushfique.

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