april notes 2018

He is the destroyer of earth and heaven. He stands akimbo on the mountain peak. He looks down and sees the rivulets gather their streams together into mighty rivers. He is the dancer. He dances his cosmic jitterbug while the thunder plays its boogie-woogie blue ... A sustained din, A chuckle, A dishonest bard marred by confused melancholy, An entropy ... Alive in a deadly dream ... He felt an oscular touch coming down with photic celerity only to be frozen in no time; time is torn, space collapsed, and gravity devastating. Dream weaves its gossamer threads and floats deeper into other dreams, and beyond other horizons. Doors ajar. A reed and a blade of green grass from a far-away planet waft by ... He floats deeper and deeper into other dreams, and beyond. Trees blaze in flame. Shiva loves the wild and the poisonous; The Dhuturas, and the Akondos.

It's morning, still to converse with my first guest. Just read your email. Thank you for your note. My first guest is a child. He came with his mother. I asked,  : How are you today? He smiled, : I am good. He smiled again, : My parents are getting a divorce. Mother had pain in her face. Quickly we changed subject. Cough, wheeze and sneeze ... Your kindest note is humbling ... It's a quest through thorns and thickets; Garden of heaven at yonder. I am ready to entertain my next guest.

Do dreams have meaning? Do elephants fly? Jasmines and hibiscuses are in full bloom. Bougainvilleas scream their intense colors. Birds fly. Evening is lazy. Two souls forded an eternal stream. At the second morning, they were kissed. Heart fluttered, but is was the brain that was awash. A gold rush of dancing chemicals inundated their total being. Consciousness gave way to a blissful unconsciousness. Their lips were ensanguined autumn leaves - ripe to fall for the earth. Is the universe anthropocentric?

Imagine, one sweet morning you and I woke up dead. Amines, and cholines , and all those prancing fairies of our carbonaceous being stop their trickery. Hooked to machine. No pain. No elation. No nothing. Is not it something to be nothing? “All that remains is a fate whose outcome alone is fatal ”* And imagine, One sweet morning woke up not … * from Ephemeral Creation. Albert Camus)

A song is not a song until it is sung. Until it seeps into the deepest stratum of someone else’s song. Thus you sing the song of Earth and Moon. Thus you sing the song of rain and crimson hibiscus. Thus you sing the song of a gilded nugget, That is lost in the depth of a mighty river. I am the nugget. I was born in an exploding sun. I carry the story of eternal time. I tumble down the river. I tumble past the bare cliffs and dark canyons. I tumble down to the verdant meadow. I touch the heart of a tiny blue flower. I see a lonely gazelle, Staring … I carry the story of eternal time. I tell my story to the tiny blue flower in the meadow. A song is not a song until it is sung I sing my song to the gazelle and to the blue flower Who you are? Gazelle or flower ?!

“ there are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt in your philosopy.” (Shakespeare, Hamlet) 'and philosophy is dead' Thus spake Stephen Hawkins For math has taken over And heaven exists no more The arena is ever changing And the fabric boisterous This is the ethos Creation and destruction dance like a Siamese Twin Tangled ... ' to be or not to be' Wary I sit on a tree on water's edge A lonely kingfisher dives in For long-lost halcyon days Wary I ran into the brier Let me bake my own heaven and earth Let me be my own lord 'kun fayakun' I said Ah Why the earth is pretty And the sea salty