Mull, muse, amuse

Random,  could also be called hit and miss or arbitrary, but thoughts are thoughts, no more no less and have misted up my mindscape for a long time…woolly at times, at times crystal clear, they whiz through every now and then. They are all at once animate, vibrant and suddenly foggy or frozen.

            Thoughts they say should be treated like birds flying across the sky…one needs to just look at them and not interrupt them in their flight across the firmament…at best one could fly with them for a while, hover, dip, dive and fly away into eternity or return now and then like the migratory birds. 

            The mind, it is said, is like a projection of the universe or an inversion of it, there are several time and space zones interlinking eons to myriad experiences, weaving a tapestry that has a varying manifestation through every being.

            So just roll along and let’s see where we land at the end of this journey.

A  voyage that begins with conception in the wonderful womb of a mother, satiated by the merging forces, as it were of the Yin and Yang, of male and female, Shiva and Shakti…there then comes into being, a being complete in itself and similar to all the beings around, yet different.

As I strolled through time, I saw the tide recede,

as I got closer, I saw time fading with deceit,

I was, as if, caught in a warp,

time and tide, which controlled which

was difficult to see, waking me with a start.

I held sand again, in my palm and tried to clasp it

just as, when I was a kid; it fell away silently,

collecting in a heap, at my feet. 

I remember having done this gleefully then,

collecting pouring, pouring, collecting.

Now I do it too, but with a little more expertise,

I’m learning to glean from the sand grains that fell

ever so silently at my feet.