chassis

Light is the sun that shines
beyond our gratitude

It is impossible not to sense the closeness
each time I close my eyes

Would that be closer than skins untouching ?

The gap: causing the desireless stress of presence

of the other
because of itself

My mind  
Discloses
nude

For what
We celebrate is
a precision of love
made of
our wordless waves
that subtly replaces
and sculpts my
gross lines
to their
primordial

We are transparent
space casts its chassis
Made of us
Formats
our deserted shells

as we fuse
to fit in things
Color of sound
now as big as
its encapsulating hall
We are time only
to heal

20160205_175253

photo by Alin, Feb 2016, Hampi

retuned

Now

It feels as if
I have travelled
all the way
to some past

I observe attentively
from a different story
without questioning
and with new objects
encircling

Senses from another time
do not recognize at first

Eyes render
Mind confirms

then readjusts
keeps itself busy
to avoid the blabberer
to philosophize

so that

So that
we won’t be associated by madness about space

not really remembering
just an inner knowing
regarding
the sleeper’s time-gap

I have awakened today
in this invisible skin
after the paradigm shift
jelled of now and then
to man
but with a difference

of …
its dreamless dream

I would touch otherwise
Why not!

just to refute those
clouding thoughts
just to be more honest
towards the urge
if any…

but at this place of now
Touch does not help to connect
neither does it allow to experience
whereas the desire to touch

remains
apart on stage
As if a play of awareness
for awareness

The latter
Unmoved by the happy or sad
watches
just

20160208_134302

photo by Alin, 8 February 2016, Hanuman Temple stairs

cosmic wave

our immovable dance
threads  the great canvas
of no thing
made of and by
our knowing  
the carrier of sound
stretches
by love
and plays
lights and shades
along the
ever changing curls
of a velvet universe

***

if there is two
it is not even at two separate
ends

but a base of being
for and of
each other

we cannot say that
for each one of the two
there is a sense of two

when one is not existential
without the other
then the other is not the other
but the way for the one to be  

selflessly

then one sees one
then one knows one

Love

one love to one love
like a sheet of purple gaze

flows along
and permeates
one another

it is the dance of grace

in between the two
lies the universe

for they balance
as ever distincts
the sparks of
the tale of things

ah pure love within itself knowing the other
ah pure love source of all divine dance

spans

the carrier of creator’s subtlety

the sign of all creation  
living on its own
– apart from its creator

we hear inside

***

silence of
the vacuum
omnipresent
as one sound
-but not a thing-
permanently
enlightening
nameless
it remains

in a wisdom

where
time cannot
be traveled
as long  as
time is defined
to create
time

 

cosmicwave3
photo and photo-collage
by Alin
Lyon streets, 2015

 

 

Fall Bloom

that blond girl
with long long hair
is a color
of delightful luminosity
glaring
by a precise
poetic sensuality
of the tongue
tapping the palate
hitting the right note
concurrently
manifesting a tone
an equivalence of a smile
in all worlds

She –
made of lustrous transparent rose skin
is a goddess of temptation
the curling ice queen
on a museum floor
manifesting nudity to
not believing eyes
once dressed up
in tightly packed dark clothing
unfitting to the straight torso

jutting out the shine of
her far away alluring looks
the porter of ancient nordic landscapes is her eyes
which you’d choiceless fly through

She – the divine breeze made to softly aerate
angelic locks –
innocence of youthful dreams

joy may you call her laughter -unheard – freezing time
rebuilding traces of an unlived dream

She is here today

to harmonize the thought chords
attuned by the subtle passage
made of blurry sets of colors and lines
flowing at a readable rate  
along the dark November backgrounds
of an intoxicated Sunday morning

Red is still red in the neon
as if too early to be awake
clock hitting the afternoon
wall of fame signs rolling lonely
to haunt ghosts of yesterday nights
which have never come alive until they got brighter than the stars

Dark that shall make the silhouettes forget and reanimate
the never starting and neverending play of zombies
looking for a pure soul

always somewhere else
failing to find one

Flashes of illusion swept by the persistent horns

to be replaced in their place
not as divinity
but as an administrative layer of impurity
All replaceable at once
while everyday stays the same
while everyday they think is different
except for the old man

the old man doesn’t think
wearing a cap
sits there outside
at the most invisible corner of an old theater cafe

He sees everything he has three eyes
He hears everything he has three ears
He reads everything always the same newspaper
turning the pages in the same tempo of this chimerical dream

I am being observed I know
while writing beside him
and he says silently :
I don’t wanna read yours
but I can read you
if i want to
and he attempts to go
many many times

while I write I wish him stay
as if keeping an admirer beside my words
an anonymous faceless friend
and I speed up as I walk fast with my pen I fly
and he gravitates back to his chair again
restlessly

I want to finish this up quickly and walk away at once without even looking at him not even once
that’s the perfect scenario I think mixing up a reality to a dream
considering the urgent importance of this line makes me immerse and see nothing other than the self  but alas the traffic lights turn to green

and She – the profile of my beauty queen
holding a beaker to go
raises her head dancingly
arcs the neck
and in slow motion
throws a laughter to the air
whose weight should be a blissful wiege
for my loving looks –
made of a shape of a missing
of what I could have never been
– halving her pink coat in well fitting blue to her jeans

and she steps forward to fade away
leaving me chained to the glorious gravity
of this untouchable dream

on this invisible island of mirrors
which neither she nor anybody else has ever seen
but me

hopelessly sculpting now
a reflection of an illusion
made real
through the weight of these words
me is  a sad melody
of an autumn leaf
falling for her dream

There is a light

There is a light we hold

it shines
-almost literally-

from inside
and
illuminates

like when
the electric bulb
first time realized
the essence
of its very source

and
Now

still in a same
fit for itself box
enlightens
the once a dark corner
by the embracing romance
of its truth

As visible such a bulb is to eyes
(and as such )
sensuous is this light to us
when we  fully are
and
inside the heart

and
Now
Whenever
we breathe
in asana
the sun shines
for the one
receiving
this
blissful
rhyme

 

SV101994

photo by Alin –  2007