Sub Rosa 


It’s not so wrong to steal if time is all you take

Do you feel like you’re losing out on another life?

Slipping through your hands

Oh, you look so tired of something that I don’t understand

—-

She considered imaginary counting the days

She enjoyed it walking uncertainty; even when it left her nothing

Her eyes wandered the views of unparalleled skyscrapers

Of the thought moved pass her with the same question in sirkular loop

It chased her running out of breath yet ceased not 

Will it be different or end up the same?” 

She wondered and kept steady her belief

Even when time can’t guarantee either juxtaposed end

It is to be unfolded in time sub rosa

—-

She’s the one in need and none can understand

Why she looks so tired of something

Still I hope there’s hope for you

As you’re walking through this desert land

The Necessary Unnoticed

“I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.” — Margaret Atwood.

Yet came she to the same remembrance

‘Because the heart is beautiful it left her impressed’ the wind cast a subtle blow to the fellows questioning

The nessesary unnoticed, came slap her in a moment brief

Like a ghostly substance travels and made subsconcious remark 

In a subtle possible way, in a way it was solid and sound: round

The necessary unnoticed, yet remain charmed the mind in flux to unconditional constancy

Present unfolded future folded mystery; should carries on she with the dear in mind, the necessary unnoticed

 

On Kafka On The Shore

​“ Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

Haruki Murakami , Kafka on the Shore

The aforementioned quotation above reminds me of the line from this song, ‘Trouble is a friend’ by Lenka, “Trouble will find you. No matter where you go. No matter. No matter if you are fast. No matter if you are slow.”In order to stay firm in the midst of, violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm” one needs to have clarity of purposes in life, at least, s/he knows where his or her life is heading. Sangkan Paran and deep-seated ‘counciousness‘ as a key; in every of chosen endeavour what makes one a winner of his/her game of life. And “once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive.” Quite hard a practice to maintain an inner peace, and I’m practicing still.