My Contingent Happiness

Today, the cause for my happiness hides behind the door of my own perception. I see none, neither do I see any, cause for my happiness. The still water in the lake, behind the mountains, resemble the state of happiness in my mind.  There is no movement in this state of happiness, not that other states have locomotive apparatus to move from point A to point B or from within to without, but it always has a feeling of movement, not a movement, just a feeling of movement that consists a process of moving from a state of becoming to a state of to be and then to a state of cease to be. Lack of movement in any state of happiness makes it smell stale and old, but my current state of happiness smells like fresh blossom of the spring shinning like a diamond.

Far beyond the horizon, a word pops out, and the image tumbles down the stairs of heaven, my sense rises to its perfection and is sucked into the appearance of the horizon. My attention rumbles between the distraction and the subtraction, the holy mountain of the graved rats and the sinking hole in the transeunt cause, silence in the heart of seeker and gun in the hand of outraged rebel, climax of the preluded future and fruit of the precluded past. In this cage of misfitted entities, my happiness is now nowhere to be found.

My happiness cannot be moved, cannot be ceased as it was never intended to be created. Where are you? Did I loose you in the midst of distraction or did you loose me in the descend of attraction? Your aura has fixed my destiny, your silence nurture has boosted my soul, without you , I am no more a being.

Come back to me. I shall sing a song for you. I see no signs of you when I gaze through my window of reason, so let be, I shall shut my window and worship you in the absence of reason. Without you I cease to see the cause, I cease to become a cause. In absence of you, in search for you, I have become to be myself.

As I meditate in silence to be tingled again, I feel .............I feel my hair rising, skin numbing, mouth drying, sweats dropping, with my second breathe I feel a breeze blowing through my face, your charm dangles in the breeze, ripples of your silent walk vibrates through the air, I feel you, coming back to me.

My Friend

Wait,
Wait my friend.
For I am yet to be invented.
The relation in progress
Will cease as to be,
Once I disclose the lies within me.

Speak,
Speak my friend.
Your voice fills my head,
Derails my thoughts from the rail.
Clumsy friction within my brain,
Is not your constrain.
Just ripples of the old echoes,
Flattering the vanity of time, insane!

Walk,
Walk away my friend.
My impression deludes you,
My rhetoric drains you.
All that's left within you,
Is prey to my egoist rendezvous.

Die,
Die my friend.
Our meeting has come to an end.
Lost our souls are,
Delight upon the last conscience.
In the midst of the winter breeze,
Our body will cease to be.

Soon,
Soon my friend.
The door will open.
Ladies with garlands on the other side,
Await to rejoice upon your presence.

Sooner or Later,
The veils will tear apart,
Surrounding you with your deeds,
You will feel the broken cracks of your art
Tumble down upon your legs,
Dividing the ground you stand on,
The flames within the soil shall erupt,
To lash and smash you around.

After the end,
Wait for me, my friend.

Dum Dum Dum Dum

Jumping across the shallow floor,
Jackal reaches the neighbor's door,
No intervention, no complication
Just a way of life in a jungle nation.
The roaring face of Lion Man,
The cunning nature of Foxy Lady.
Both assemble in a straight line
For the faith have decided their essence.
Lost in transcendence,
Without any knowledge of the goal,
They ascend towards the ancient soul.
Everything they desire is all they have,
All their want is all they can will,
Grounded to the Earth,
They seek no where to flee.
But, the mad man broke his cage,
Ran far away, away from their gaze.
Solid rain, broken frame,
Mind game, the shadow behind the moon rays,
All smell of shame.
All call for a lost friend.
They keep their distance,
Take a step back
And regain yourself.
The rumble and the murmur,
Will fade away with the dark colors
Of the mundane dusk.
The silence breaks, and
The mistress of the night
Makes a dazzling appearance.
As she rises from the complex of the sky,
Clothes starts to shed,
Skin starts to vibrate, hair rises.
Veins shrink, Blood stops.
World awaits.
For the soul to regain itself,
Its extension dances.
On a rhythmic pattern of
Dum Dum Dum Dum.