Breakable

A heart made of glass,
A soul of stone
Is so breakable
And just as alone
Ever thought what keeps us together?
That which falls apart
That which gives us laughs
And brings tears to our hearts?
Am I the strength of the times,
Or merely pain’s vulnerable friend?
Am I to be broken
And meet my likeliest end?
I’d rather be broken
and mend a torn soul
I’d rather fail
Would rather rise after a fall

Seasons of my mind

Aching an unknown ache
Or embracing a silence
My mind is like a season
Of brevity and transience
Joy is fleeting
Love divine
I cry and laugh together
I blame my mind
In the search of my weary soul
I have lived and laughed aloud
But at the edges of the night
I keep seeing my dark shroud
My mind is a season
A season of joy and sorrow
And with every happy thought today
I wait for a grim tomorrow
It sometimes feels like the sun
Or a rain of pain
The joy comes unamused
And I pray it comes again
I know not what lies ahead
Happiness or sorrow
I know it’d be a season nonetheless
Here today, gone tomorrow 

Annabel Lee

I wish I were Annabel Lee
a Romeo’s Juliet, a love’s lost glee

A beauty known to one
a harrowed reverie,
dream of sighs
I wish I were Annabel Lee

I wish I were Annabel Lee
lost in the ocean and the deep seas

Pygmalion’s Galatea,
lifeless to all but him
I wish I were
a poet’s empty whim

I wish I were Annabel Lee
Alive and dead, both I would be

A tortured muse
to Vincent Van Gogh
I wish I were
an artist’s window to the world

I wish I were Annabel Lee
frozen in time forever free

Forgotten in paint
unforged in ink
I wish I were the grace
that makes an empty void
break down and think

I wish I were Annabel Lee
the source of all joy and misery

Beauty beyond belief
keeper to the gates of hell
I wish I were a story
a story only one could tell

An Ophelian dream
Poe’s muse in a kingdom by the sea
I wish I were Annabel Lee….

A rooted life

I have stayed
many years 
branches on branches
living through many tears
the wind walks past
like an old friend
passing along
softly before the end
I was home 
to a lost family
of canaries and sparrows
of squirrels and bees
They laughed with me
cried their pain
flew far wide
before coming home again
All the chirpy evenings
the secret joys
of secret meetings
they passed me by
At length there came a time
my strength wore down
a fearless victim
of a woodcutter’s cold frown
He struck long and hard
crying tears of rage
this was my final stand
my life’s last stage
even as I fall
I fall with a smile
for I’d live on as warmth
of a winter night’s pyre

Remembrance: Part 2

More than a year since my grandmother has passed. I saw her in my dreams today. As distinctly as ever, sitting in front of a temple getting ready for prayers, she just told me not to be afraid of the snakes and continued to set up for her prayers in a field surrounded by snakes! Now, I am no Freudian expert but in my head this probably means a good thing.
I miss her existence; she was all I knew of spirituality, of God, of Evil and good. She was there like a constance whenever I felt alone. The reason I hold on to her so dearly is because, she is the only loss I have ever known, the only heartache, the only real sorrow.
Her last years, my father had spent preparing me for the grief but came to realize he himself wasn’t really ready to let her go. I feel guilty about not having gone for her funeral, but I did not really know what to do for the most part that day. Should I have mourned her? Or gone as I did for some irrelevant college function and cheer our band unnecessarily? Which brings me to the real question; how does one mourn a loss? For a first time mourner, this wouldn’t come naturally or it could just be my lack of emotion (or too much of it!) that I am not able to articulate the sense of loss I feel.
She was my one my all
My pillar that stood tall
She graced through the brazen storm
Like a cloud in a peaceful calm
She was my rendition of a fairy tale
Lived to see a family that prevailed
She was beauty in my eyes
Alive in death’s lullaby
She comes in my dreams 
like a happy solace
she smiles through
our eternal embrace

Reread the tribute I wrote for her and realized that no words are really enough for me to let her go. There will no closure, she is never coming back and there is merely a void full of memories to remember her by. 

An Eagle’s Ire

My anger is broken
My love atrocious
an irony of nature
my beauty is distorted
I soar the skies in misery
Looking for an innocent prey 
until I see a lonely speck
nature has not made my day
They call me glorious
and worship my might
“The patron of Zeus
and Vishnu’s flight!”
I have flown across 
rivers of blood
scavanged for food
across the floods
I hunt for kings
wait for the baited
But die lonely
forever hated
When the skies come down
the earth comes near
the dust settles down
and the mist is clear
You feel the fear
of the deathly scars
for beauty is beautiful
only from far

Waterbone: Tibet – The lost story of a journey

You can only be called a true LISTENER of music if you have the ability to respect music made from the unlikeliest of sounds. My first tryst with Waterbone was a cassette bought by my father at an attempt to find Indian sounds in America. He had gone almost sentimentally collecting remotely Indian sounding albums from the American Music Stores and came back to India triumphant of having found mystic chants in this band’s debut album.

For me Tibet was more than that, it was a window to this mysterious land that has been fighting its existence for decades. It was a sound that transports you to the Himalayas. It was real because the artists had in fact traveled to these lands and recorded with Tibetan artists. It was not like the typical Enigma album (no disrespect to the artist), it didn’t have the technology of recorded voices. What it did contain was the voice of a people finding peace in spite of the turmoil around them.

Jimmy Waldo, one of the members of the group, one of the founding members of an ’83 hard rock group Alcatraz, has been a rocker throughout his life. The album is a testament to respected hard rockers like Robert Plant because they choose to tread paths untread by those before them, he chose to change his genre purely in his quest for something that touches his soul.

Tibet is more than just a trance, electronic, lounge album, it’s the voice of a forgotten land, the chant of peace and hope for a place that has forgotten it under ages of oppression.

But the song that started it all, the one that led my father’s thought to this album is this one song that takes you right at the foothills of Himalayas on a spiritual journey. Presenting to you, the “Song For the Mountain”