Is it my mind which is corrupted?
Or is it my mortal frame which is ruined?
Pinnacle of all thoughts - once a part of my labyrinth,
Now die an inglorious death,
A sea of patient ideas, dry and disfigured,
Holds now the smoke of rejected motives and revolting drugs,
I stand on its shores - reminiscing
About winds, waves and light on pure sand!
Artwork: Google Images The calm of morphine kept fading, By little I found the pain brewing, While the untamed heart kept pounding Much like a blanched pigeon Freshly caged. Days were lost in hours of pain, Weeks passed as I couched Sans the strength to speak out, I gave a whisper one day As lightly as a fading song, I asked the doctors about her health. Spells of hallucination always struck, I remained in a hospital bed Looking at the monitor echoing my beats, But a moment after, I am in a car, Racing at knots at the rage of opium. In a moment my life became white, Her hands were clutched onto mine, I looked into her eyes and a paranoia rose, Is it the morphine that flows through me, Or is it the opium that makes me high? The doctors claimed she had died, But then who sat beside me last night? Drops of tears concerned my vision I felt her as real as the flagitious doctors Who raced around me like wild hyenas. A...
"atha kena prayuktoayam papam charati purusah
ReplyDeleteanichchannapi vashneya baladiva niyojitah........................?"
----krishna answered; but the answer is still incomplete...
I suggest u a book- In search of the miraculous - P.D.Ouspensky.