A tragedy

The infinite, 

multiplying possibilities of childhood, 

being chased forever,

by the whittling years,

are dead men 

now.

Their ghosts however

return, without fail

to haunt the undeniable

now.

Faith

Reasonable faith and blind faith. Applying qualifiers to a word that already implies belief regardless of anything else.

But this raises an interesting point. Science, all of it, is based on the sense of belief. This belief is based on evidence gathered thus far. On the basis of the fact I have seen the sun rise every morning and that the planet we live on hasnt just floated away I believe that the sun will rise again tomorrow. This belief is based on theories that have come about that attempt to explain empirical evidence. These have stood the test of time and so it is reasonable, and convenient to accept these explanations as fact (until of course someone has observed something that doesn't seem to quite fit in with current theories. Theory then goes right out the window. This is the very stuff of science, that it allows things held in good light for years together to be demolished on the basis of a single contradictory observation. Of course the fact that we humans practice science, thereby infusing it with all sorts of petty mindedness is another story altogether).

The next time I want to know something about the Sun, I do not go about collecting evidence, instead I look to science to offer me explanations and reasonable beliefs.

Theists or believers who are otherwise smart enough to understand that all of science is also based on belief somehow draw the line at accepting that the belief in science is based on hard empirical evidence.

almost perfect

Its a saturday morning and I look out the window. It frames an explosion of fresh green leaves and a wet earth. The air is cool and the smell of rain lingers - that absoluelty divine whiff of a parched land suddenly made wet. And my lines are prevented from becoming a cliche, by a sky which is a bright white, and not a brilliant blue. A cup of tea in hand, I stare oustide as my mind picks up on a thought. I forget the beauty, as it tries to think of ways to preserve a moment like this forever. Stupid me.

early death

musings, born
out of a monkey mind
that refuses to be still
jumping and grabbing
on to every passing thought
following it around
chattering
gibbering
and discarding it
for the next ,
die an early
death.

Life's like this

Life trundles along the gray plateaus of the daily, avoiding the dark and sunken valleys of despair and missing the tall shimmering hillocks of happiness. There is a path that it follows amidst these, on this endless gray sea of slate. The path which for the most part is by itself, is intersected every once in a while by other paths and more often than not, takes sharp turns into the aforementioned valleys. Life has to be careful, for there are never any signposts put up in advance, to warn it of such things. "Conniving sod!" it says, its irritation directed towards the one who designed all of this. Surprises almost seem to be built in - a feature, instead of a bug.

And every once in a rare while, along the dusty path, are glimpses of what-may-be's. Having stopped now, at one of these, it pauses to look upon the what-may-be. And a moment later it ambles on, wondering about mirages.

ho hum

Oh to spend all day lying in elysian fields. Staring at the sky. And having millions in the bank.
Its simple really. We realize that passion and romance is all right and fine, but on a full stomach.