The Monkey Mind

    Introspection ; my dear old friend graces me with her visits, unexpected yet pleasant. She always arrives bearing gifts, precious on her each visit, subsequent. And thus, she graciously extends her warm trust unto me, and I cannot help but kindly return it, likewise.                                                                                                                                                                                   ...

Beautiful! It is a blessing to be able to adore, and be adored as..., beautiful!                                                                                                                                                        (PC:Ley Rish) Behold! so it is in the unfeigned adoration of the mind, its warm companionship, and the aura of its omnipresence that effuses the perpetual inquisitiveness, to know, to realize, to understand, and be placated about anything and everything which the mind adores as beautiful ..at least for a moment...

  " I feel, so I am" Feelings ... They are part of us, as we are part of them. From birth, in the span of being, and till death, have we ever been apart from them? How can we call ourselves, us , if we do not feel and delve deeper into the aesthetics of nature whose essence spontaneously vibrates and freely heals? Or simply instills in us to feel the subjective abhorrence towards the man's diverse-infinite decadence and disease? And as we grow or shrink, we judge so, those feelings we so feel, to be either good or bad, associated with pleasure and pain, that which is permitted and that which is not.                                                                                                 ...

" Conviction is the aura of subjective truth, a man so willingly breathes..." Prayer is the foundation of faith. And it so exists, in the sincerity of a mortal's breath; long, deep, and contemplative. You may visualize life in its relentless pursuit of the fulfillment of never-ending drives; food that intermittently sates the hunger, sleep that quietly rests the fragile body, the applied knowledge that nails purpose in the fidgety mind, fiery sex that frees the spirit from its inherent mortal trapping for a while, more or less.  It is breath, and the process of breathing, in its steady depth, the prayer of mortal discovers consistency...that atheist sighs and yields willingly unto his faith of faithlessness. If you are wondering who that atheist is, obviously that ignoble person albeit hypocritical, is none other than me, the author of this ruminating writing Yes, an "Atheist".  and not a day goes by, that I do not pray .              ...

                                                  In the early morn, at a crowded underground train station, a family of three had found refuge. The ponderous environment coalesced the ancient air which smelled musty, with that of the neoteric tenant, the human smell that wafted from unwashed bodies. The poor light had become a playground where fleeting shadows played hide and seek, with the dim lamps dispersed unevenly on various corners, uninhabited as if awaiting for grim reapers to walk out. " Evermore " *whisper* Under a flickering light... ...foreheads gently met each other, small belonging to a pitifully crying child, and, broader wrinkled in grim worry, to a middle-aged man whom she desperately clung to.  Her small clumsy arms barely encircled his burly neck, yet they refused to let go, as her teary voice incessant with desper...

"I am not my own, how can I be yours..." she whispered intimately with a voice soft, emphasizing in a tone gentle, but punched hard in its truth,  it hurt, hurts still, like hell.  Even after all these days, weeks, months, and years...                                                                                                                                                                                             ...

No Tomorrow. Promise solemn rang true to my ears...,   without accompanying sound ,  with  the heaviness of its solemnity reverberating from body to soul and soul to the body, as along trembled simultaneous, the heart's temerity, I felt... the unwilling liberation of the soul and unbinding of bodily chains, like never before, as the spirit wavered, in-between the light and dark; the purgatory ...                                                                                                                                                  ...