Contended

Hardly the Winter of our discontent. As dusk falls ever faster I feeling more at ease with myself and the paths I tread. The other day we chatted under the pale stars to My Immortal. BJ-park, Salt Lake. Walking as usual with the shades of yesterday. Enjoying the present bonhomie as well.
Things are looking up. They had reached a minima some time back.

Another brief interlude

 Time mismanagement is an art-form which I have readily mastered. Currently I have EC191 reports to finish (forget about FETs for the time being), somehow pass the internal assessment starting from the 21st, start off on electromagnetic theory. Oh yeah, and Euler's theorem isn't really helping matters.
 Then there is the usual obligatory 'catching-up' on old friends (not a chore at all, but leaching into my time pool nonetheless), fits of insomnia where I do not manage to get started on any work before 1 a.m. and those phone conversations that spiral into a no-man's-land.

 Got drenched coming back home. With my graphics sheets at that. Bugger! Trying to unfocus on the anxieties. Spring Sonata should help. I'll enqueue it with Kreutzer.

phone call

A very old friend called after a very long time. From very far away too.
 Feeling an odd mix of elation, nostalgia and a sense of standing up straighter than before. Spoke of so many of the things we used to unload on each other on those interminable phone calls, the ever-present PNPC, talking of the littles loves and large lunacies (your harem of post-menopausal hourees e.g.) , mimicking random people - the more eminent the better and deciding that you are from China after all. The sound of your sister's slippers colliding with your posterior. And other such gems. :P

 The thing is . . . I had tasted a lot of the best things in life way before their proper times. And now most things I see today are in the light of yesterdays - jaded, laced with nostalgia and never being able to measure up to those I had known in the past. That precious camaraderie that never needed words, the silences that were never uncomfortable.
Ah well. I hope next winter will find me less a mess. Talk of being far-sighted. But till then my mind still veers to a darkened Xavier's auditorium and the magic of that horribly hard piano tamed under your blasted talons. And the sustaining pedal always pressed! Uff! Lol.

my anarchy

Opened my eyes to the morning light
Beheld your form standing, sublime . . .

You are a gust of anarchy
The splash of red on my cobbled streets
An azure window in lowering skies
A gem glimmering on the shingled shores . . .

I will scratch my silent screams into
the flaking walls of dingy lanes
Into the smell of the westering sun
on deserted courtyards . . .
And the redemption of your darkling eyes,
In dreams and the lilting song of dusk -
My fleeting muse for ever!

To you

To you my fleeting salvation.

The eyes of a goddess
Limpid pools of laughter...
Fire-fettered they flirt with the wind
Darting dark eyes of thine -
At times calm, like moonlight on snow,
Balm to scorched souls like mine . . .

"Aren't you attending a lecture? Don't let your mind wander..."

Wanderlusting through the meandering
bylanes of Anywhere
A mire of blogs, bile and bitterness;
Bereft of your elusive grace
Crushed petals, withered, brittle.
Borne on wings of amber wan
To fall like dying birds upon the meres.

The road is my own to stumble through
My highest reverence - just smile.
That I may someday learn to breathe
Than gasp and yearn for false dawns.

For now just the road before me
With pale streaks daubed in the sky above
And dark eyes in the gloaming of my mind.


Footnote: you were correct my infernal friend, should you ever read this. Nothing like being unrequited to blow on the old embers of forgottten lines. Like the old times . . .