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The events of life are uncertain;
what will happen to us cannot be planned;
most of what makes the world work
is hidden behind an invisible curtain;
what is supposed to happen to us
is something that we have to come to and get to
on our own sometimes,
because there wont always be someone
to show us the right path and guide us by the hand.

Life is not always good.
Life is not always spectacular.
Life can sometimes feel like a lie.
Life can sometimes feel like you are standing in an ocean
with the water-level just below your head,
or like you are trying to withstand
a raging torrent in the middle of a flood.
Life can sometimes feel like you are walking around
with the pain of a fracture.
Life is what you succeed at every day,
just as long as you are willing to make an effort
in something that you believe in and feel passionately about-
and something that might not always be a work of art
that everyone will love,
but it doesn’t matter as long as you can always say that you tried.

One day can feel and can be a perfect, beautiful, sunny day,
while the next can be a rainstorm that doesn’t want to stop;
one day you can feel on top of the world,
while the next can be like you are living and existing
in an infinite reality of bubbles that are continuously forming,
floating, dancing through the air,
and then when you least expect, they go pop!

Some days can appear beautiful and bright,
some days can seem claustrophobic and dark;
some days can feel endless and hopeful,
and even at the end of the day when you think
you have seen and experienced it all,
you can suddenly look up at the sky
and see a vibrant display of colour,
even as the stars shine at night.
Some days, some days can seem like you are
constantly trying to escape from a prison,
and like a prisoner people just look at you
and see a number instead of a name-
as if at some point in your life
you were branded with a barcode
that can be read, or some other indelible mark.

You can’t always be who you want to be all the time,
because not everyone is able to understand you,
and most of the time you hide behind something
to disguise your true feelings and emotions-
so as to not start a hopeless fight, or get into a drama;
you can’t always say what you want to say,
because even though we can understand
a little of what someone says
sometimes you realize that you are in fact
talking a completely different language entirely-
because every conversation feels like a struggle,
and getting across what you want to say
just feels like it is getting harder and harder.

Every day can’t be aurora’s, shooting-stars, rainbows,
happy-filled, new adventures, that are blessed above
with blue sky and golden sunshine-
some days you may not even have a minute to yourself
to do what you want to do,
because it feels like everything is just work, work, work.
Every day is a lesson.
Every day is a mixture.
Every day is a creation of something that is of you-
some days it feels like you are a cook
cooking with an infinite number of ingredients,
that you just hope will come together at the end,
to make something worthwhile,
and so that when you look back on your life
you know that you did everything you did for a reason,
like a true Heisenberg.

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Out the door I see Eden,
out the door I see hope,
out the door I see new possibilities,
out the door I see a beautiful day
bathed in the light of the sun,
out the door I see a direction to go,
out the door I see a mystery, a world,
a people, a life, that never stops fascinating me.

Out the door I see a new adventure,
out the door I see the future and the past,
out the door I see breathtaking nature,
out the door I see a play being played out
before my eyes with an infinite cast.

Out the door I see light,
out the door I see lions,
out the door I see flags
and clouds being blown in the wind,
out the door I see colour of all depths of the spectrum,
out the door I see all that is bright, magnetic,
connected, built, maintained, keeps going,
stays standing, through everything;
out the door I see reality, as if I am seeing it through
a mirror of one-way glass, or as if through the eye
and the vortex and event horizon of a wormhole,
and I imagine that every atom, molecule, energy,
person, building, animal, plant, and thing,
is constantly talking to each other
without them even knowing it,
on another level and frequency of communication.

Out the door I see people I have never seen before
and will probably never see again;
out the door I see history, fate, destiny;
out the door I see heritage, culture,
the beginning of spring-
the change of a season;
out the door I see choice and preference,
joy, and shadow;
out the door I see things that will exist and have existed
for each and every millennium;
out the door I see a world that can be testing at times,
but over all just wants to be friendly;
out the door I see where I must go.

Out the door I see and I think of what is out there for me,
and what would someone think of me if they saw me
while they were looking up and looking out,
and I wonder if anyone else somewhere
is looking through a similar opening
and considering the world they see
for how it feel and appears to them-
what is what it is, and what is in store.
I wonder where I am going
and I imagine someone behind me saying and asking
that same question of themselves and of me,
as they watch me get up and walk out the door.

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Life is the most amazing gift in existence;
love is the most wonderful miracle
that can ever be blessed on someone-
when you discover one day that your entire life
has all been preparation for meeting the one person
who truly loves you and understands you
and accepts you for who you are,
you never get over the power of that instant discovery,
and the daily insights into the meaning of all life,
as well as your own, that is represents;
and that is why life and love should be considered
the most precious and the most incredible treasure
that you can ever have in the palm of your hands,
and they will light the way of any path
that is in front of you more so than the sun.

Dedicated to my friend Surya Devi on her birthday

Above my head, skirting the cosmic veil,
a comet trails a path in the clear star-lit sky
and dusts the Earth in its wake.
I have always loved and I have always marvelled
at the sight of these glowing and solo travellers
that pass through our solar system,
and so close to Earth that they can be seen with the naked-eye
from the ground, from time to time, on a clear and unclouded night.
I have always been fascinated by what gives a comet its remarkable tail.
I have always dreamed about
what it would be like to be on the surface of a comet
as it passed by Earth, to see our testament oasis
to the infinite possibilities of choice and life,
and to gaze-out in wonder as the comet atomised and fragmented
and floated to Earth like winter snowflakes.

A photograph of the night-sky can never truly capture its beauty;
a camera can see into the depths of space,
but it can only return with an after-image-
a photocopy, a poor-mans facsimile, and representation
about what is truly out there:
colours that we don’t yet have a name for,
forces that dictate the reason for everything
that we don’t yet understand and perhaps never will,
life existing in forms we are incapable of envisioning
because we are not yet ready to see them.
We look longingly at pictures of nebulae, new planets,
moons, shooting-stars, and comets,
because they remind us of ourselves,
and they fore-shadow what we will one day find in the universe:
another and another and another example of complicated
and constantly evolving life-
the evidence of which will come of no surprise
to those who have for centuries believed, looked, read, and listened.

For thousands of years,
humanity has been in the perfect vantage-point
of the astro-auditorium to witness epic changes,
and to ask questions about what they are seeing
and about how the mere witnessing of something that is galactic
and out of our control will fuel the need of someone
to keep watching and finding new pieces to the vast
multi-levelled universal puzzle.
As is customary, to answer multi-faceted questions
you need to employ multi-faceted means of investigation, discovery,
and definition, until one day one layer of the picture
starts to take-shape in a way that could not have been planned,
that is the only way of making sense of what is right in front of you,
that is genuinely new and unthought of before- something like:
what if our universe is not the only universe out there in existence,
and maybe in the grand-scheme of things,
as seen in an infinite image of everything,
our universe is nothing but a puddle.

There is nothing more magical than sitting in a well-lit theatre,
staring at a blank movie-screen,
when suddenly the lights go down around you,
the film-projector turns on and the screen comes alive
with images of advertisements, film-trailers, and movie-teasers,
before getting to the main-event, before the spectacle of magic
that you have paid the price of a ticket to see,
is projected before you- so that you may immerse yourself in it
and come away from it with something that you didn’t arrive with;
just like how you feel when you see the ancient cave-paintings
of our ancestors in the early dwellings and places of importance
that have been discovered in parts of Africa and Australia.
For our entire existence, humanity has looked, learned,
and will continue to look and learn, and record,
and pass-on their discoveries to a new generation
for them to interpret in their own way-
in the same way, that when we look at cave paintings
we see art, our lineage, our humble beginnings;
perhaps our descendants will one day look at all life, as-one,
in the same way that we now watch a film in a cinema.

What is in a word?
Where do words and names originate?
Is it all down to chance, the slip of a tongue, an accidental pen-stroke;
or is there a reason in there meaning, a pre-written script of fate?

I have always been fascinated by the origins of things,
people, places, words, and names-
first name, surname, country, city, animal, tree-
the varying causes that are close to our heart,
the reasons that we carry for why we are such a devotee.

The origin of an idea is of particular interest to me;
the first heartbeats of an inspiration
always break-free of my chest and always find themselves
written on the pages of my life in enduring ink for all the world to see.

There really is something to marvel at “the start”-
a whole set of new experiences, memories, feelings, and fascinations
that may lead to a partner, a friend, a change of life,
or a masterpiece of living, breathing, inspiring, art.

I believe it is important to remember, to learn, and to remind ourselves
where things came from, and why they came into being in the first place:
our names, for example; names can be changed,
but each has its own story to be told, its own path that you can retrace.

Everything has a heart,
everything that matters and that lasts
has an undeniable attraction and gravity about it,
because it came into being with meaning;
everything and anything that has a passion pulsating from its core-
a legend, a hero, a story, an idiom,
is a legend, hero, story, idiom, worth reflecting and believing.

I am an optimist of the future,
but I am also a lover and a cherisher of a what has come before-
I am always enthused about hearing why something was made,
and for whom it was first made for.

A true wonder of the world
is something that connects with the wonder of your birth,
and which still energizes, and creates, new life everyday under your skin-
a truth, and an insight into the entire universe’ existence, your life-
and our collective origins.

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