GIVEN TO FLY



Waiting at the footsteps,
Of a rocky courtyard,
On a fiery April afternoon,
Anticipating the calm the wind will bring.

Looking forward,
Into your eyes that reflect the seas,
Capturing the elegance the moon bestows.
On the creation that is your face.

Longing,
For you to lead me away.
Into the desolation that,
Shall be my grave. Eternally.

Moving forward with time,
Your remembrance causes you to flutter.
As the clouds spell my name,
When the oceans shall be kissing your feet


Talked. Face to face after a gap of fourty days. She has passed on and I want her to. I'm too banal an individual to do any good to her. She will reside in peace and happiness, away from my lunacy. My longing and love may never diminish, though I have been asked to let time heal me. And she may remember me as anything she wants to remember me as. Because all that counts is her remembrance.

DERELICT


"Electives are posted.
No call back or complaints.
Once painted , cannot be delayed.
Walk on home."

Circling in circadian rhythms,
He sees the day in a downtrodden haze.
Brushing fingers against the walls,
Of hope, waiting for a change.

Opportunity knocks.
He smells the recycled air.
Creature of habit, he moves sideways.
With laboured breathing and sallow skin.

His imagination comes alive.
Suspicion's on the rise.
The devils in his ears,
Tells him what he never wants to hear.

Opportunity gone. Devils smile.
Perplexed man breathes a sigh.
Unknown to formality, he's unaware of his surroundings.
He sits down with his bowl tonight.

Caught in the sea of humanity,
He gropes at a passer by.
A sneer and a bark puts him in his place.
He sits down with his bowl again tonight.


Story of my life revisited. All this while waiting for that golden sparkle to break down from between the clouds and offer me the chance of redemption. None came. They all went through, in a single file. And I kept waiting. Expectantly. Drooling at the prospect of finding a new lease, whereas in my mind I knew there was none until I created my own hole out of my morbid trepidations.

Iron Maiden , in the song "The thin line between love and hate", say thus:
"When a person turns to wrong,
Is there a right to be, belong?
Part of things at every cost.
At what price a life is lost?

At what point do we begin?
Fighter's spirit, will to win.
And what makes a man decide?
To choose to wrong or righteous road?"

This is not one of their most famous songs, but I find a direct reference to this one in particular. What is the price at which we give ourselves up? Is it worth the payment due? And is the transaction, or whatever you call it, always legal as perceived my society? It is a highly complicated maze to traipse through I believe.

I have made a host of scary deals. I have made a flurry of insidious attempts at regaining my sanity in every mortal manner. And in the process, I have lost much to grieve for. The poem should be my epitaph if I am ever to be buried. For I am ever frightened of the oncoming winds. I want change, and I'm terrified of accepting it lest it be something that I am not expecting. I have listened to the demons in my mind far too long. It is time to let go and dream in light, and hold onto the single branch of faith that was offered to me yesterday.

Yes, I sit down with my bowl again tonight. Believing that the next night will usher in a gratifying change

L E T M E D R O W N




stretch the bones over my skin
stretch the skin over my hand
im going to the holy land
stretch the marks over my eyes
burn the candle deep inside
yeah you know where im coming from
give up the greed, you dont have to feed me
give up to fate, you dont have to need me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
slip down the darkness to the mouth
damn the water burn the wine
im going home for the very last time
so throw it away, you dont have to take me
make no mistakes im what you make me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
i see you turn around and burning down
the feeling starts to sink
i feel the hurt surround me
please dissolve me
she's resolved to be
so heal my wounds without a trace
and seal my tomb without my face
im going to the lonely place
give up to greed, you dont have to feed me
give up to fate, you dont have to need me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
drown me in you, drown me in




Burn the Candle.
Let me drown.
Chris Cornell is God. Kim Thayil his Apprentice

Say my hell is the closet
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating
And I'm alright
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Can't see the light
Keep it locked up inside
Don't talk about it
Talk about the weather

Can't see the light
Open up my head and let me out,
little baby
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time

I say my hell is the closet
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating and I'm alright
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time

I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else

I see you young and soft oh little baby
Little feet, little hands, little baby
One year of cryin' and the words creep up inside
Creep into your mind
So much to say
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else

So much to say
Open up my head and let me out
Little baby

Coup de grace of a song. Just rings in my head whenever I play it on the comp. Has a feel to it that very few bands can fathom. And has a subtle hint that very few people can gather. It's my perception though. How long do we stand alone? Is there really anyone behind us? Or in front of us, guiding us? Or pretending to, just to condescend with a small smile and let us know that they're there? It's all too juxtaposed and lonesome really. And then we realise the effect that we hold on those very same people. Maybe they were justa figment of our own imagination. Probably they were. We're all alone. All of us. We find solace in an empty hand that offers grace not for the sake of it, but because they have to. Period