എന്റെ പ്രണയത്തിനു നീല നിറമായിരുന്നു
സീമയില്ലാത്ത കടലിന്റെ നിറം.
ഒരിക്കല്‍ സൂര്യനതില്‍ ചുവപ്പ് നിറം കലര്‍ത്തി
ഒരു പനിനീര്‍പൂവിന്റെ നിറം ....
നിനക്ക് ഇഷ്ടം ചുവപ്പായിരുന്നു
നീ സൂര്യനെ പ്രണയിച്ചു...
അതെന്റെ രക്തം ആണെന്ന് അറിഞ്ഞിട്ടും .....

എന്റെ കൂടുകാരി...

ഓര്‍മ്മകള്‍ മാത്രം സമ്മാനിക്കുന്ന
എന്റെ പ്രിയ കൂട്ടുകാരി.....
എനിക്ക് നിന്റെ സൌഹൃദം ഇഷ്ട്ടമായ് ..
ഒരു നിയോഗത്തിലൂടെ.. വന്ന് ,
സൌഹൃദത്തിന്റെ ശരിയായ മേച്ചില്‍ പുറം
കാണിച്ചു തന്നത് നീയാണ് ... എന്‍റെ പ്രിയ കൂട്ടുകാരി
വാക്കുകളാല്‍ വിസ്മയം തീര്‍ക്കുന്ന
നിന്‍റെ സൌഹൃദം ... എത്രത്തോളം എന്‍റെ
മനസ്സിനെ സ്പര്‍ശിക്കുന്നുണ്ട്‌ എന്ന് ഞാന്‍
എങ്ങിനെ പറഞ്ഞു മനസ്സിലാക്കും ..
വീണ് കിട്ടിയോരാ സ്‌നേഹ വിശുദ്ധിക്ക്..
ജന്മാന്തരങ്ങള്‍ തന്‍ സ്‌നേഹപാശങ്ങളാല്‍
ബന്ധിച്ചൊരെന്‍ ആത്മ മിത്രമെന്ന്
അറിയാന്‍ ഞാന്‍ വൈകിയോ ..? ..
സൂര്യതാപം മുള്ളായ് പതിക്കുന്ന
ഈ ഉച്ചവെയിലിലും
സൂര്യശാപം എന്നെ പൊള്ളിക്കുന്നില്ല...
കരിവാളിച്ച സ്വപ്നങ്ങളുടെ
വരണ്ടുണങ്ങിയ തൊലിപ്പുറങ്ങളും
ഉടഞ്ഞുപോയ സ്വപ്നങ്ങളില്‍
ഊഷരമായ മനസ്സിന്റെ പച്ചപ്പുകളും
വികാര ശൂന്യതയുടെ
മേലങ്കി എനിക്ക് നല്‍കുന്നു...
കാണാമറയത്ത് നിന്ന് ഓര്‍ക്കാത്ത നേരത്ത്
കുസൃതിയുമായ് എത്തും നിന്‍ വിളിക്കായി
കാതോര്‍ത്തിരിക്കുന്നു ഞാന്‍...
ഈറനില്‍ മങ്ങുന്ന കാഴ്ചയില്‍
കാണുന്നു ഞാനങ്ങ് ദൂരെ തെളിയുന്നൊരാ
ഒറ്റനക്ഷത്രത്തിന്‍ തിളക്കത്തെയും
കാത്തു കാത്തിരിക്കുന്നു ................

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ഒരു സുഹൃത്തിനു വേണ്ടി

പുഴയുടെ ഗര്‍ഭഗൃഹത്തിലേക്ക്‌ എന്നെങ്കിലും പോയിട്ടുണ്ടോ,

അവിടെ ശാന്തമായി ഒഴുകുന്ന പുഴയില്ല

മറിച്ച് തുള്ളിക്കളിക്കുന്ന, കളകളാരവത്തോടെ ഒഴുകുന്ന ഒരു കൊച്ചരുവി മാത്രമേ കാണു.

ഒഴുകി ഒഴുകി വരുംണ്ഭോള്‍ അതിനു ശാന്തഭാവം വരുന്നു

സുഹൃത്തെ നമ്മുടെ സൗഹൃദവും ഇങ്ങനെ ആയിരുന്നു.

ആദ്യമായ് നമ്മള്‍ കണ്ടുമുട്ടിയപ്പോള്‍ അപരിചിതരെ പോലെ ആയിരുന്നു.

നാളുകള്‍ കഴിഞ്ഞപ്പോള്‍ ആത്മബന്ധത്തിന്‍റെ ഒരു ഉറവ പൊട്ടി

പിന്നീട് പിണക്കങ്ങളിലൂടെയും പരിഭവങ്ങളിലൂടെയും ആ സൗഹൃദം പതഞ്ഞൊഴുകി

ഒടുവില്‍ നാം അറിയാതെ എങ്ങിനയോ എപ്പോഴോ സൗഹൃദത്തിനു

ആഴവും പരപ്പും വര്‍ധിച്ചു

അത് ശാന്തഗംഭീരമായ ഒരു പുഴപോലെ ഒഴുകാന്‍ തുടങ്ങി

പിന്നെ അവിടെ പരിഭവങ്ങളില്ലായിരുന്നു, അപസ്വരങ്ങളില്ലായിരുന്നു,

മറിച്ച് ഇരുകരകളിലെക്കും ആത്മബന്ധത്തിന്‍റെ പച്ചപ്പുവിരിച്ചു നാം ഒഴുകി തുടങ്ങി....

Too Gentle To Live

"I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and mountains,, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know - unless it be to share our laughter.
We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide. Most of all we love and want to be loved. We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.

For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves."

— James Kavanaugh (There Are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves)

From heaven to dust

This is a post that I write from infinity. By infinity, I don't mean anything beautiful like the so called poets do, or the scientific hypothesis that it is coming from a place far away, like scientists do. Because I am neither a poet, nor a scientist but a man of simple reason and I am never far away from the ones I love. And those who may care to read this post will be the ones who will have a last drop of love in their heart for me. So I write this, with all my heights and depths, from the infinite loneliness of my soul. This loneliness, is what I meant to be infinity. As we know, when we are at pain, time is eternity and when at pleasure, time seize itself to be. And the reason why I write it now, seems to be so meaningless. For I am not surpassed the good and bad experiences in my life. For I still have a long way to go to decide what I will become in life. But Love is so short and forgetting is so long. Me thinks, Life as we call it is the same. So short as a shooting star. But my feeling is that this blog will not become a Star Way as I thought, when I started writing first time, but it will be a star dust, a black hole, that will eventually swallow me, and drag me to the depth of darkness of eternity. But tomorrow, if the light may again shine in my star way, I will be back, and I hope so much, it will happen sometime by the power that moves the sun and stars, by the same power that moves the heart and soul. That's it for now.

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)

Great Sonnets

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring barque,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
— William Shakespeare (Great Sonnets)

A Walk to Remember

"do you love me?' i asked her. she smiled. 'yes.' 'do you want me to be happy?' as i asked her this i felt my heart beginning to reace. 'of corse i do.' 'will you do something for me then?' she looked away, sadness crossing her features. 'i dont know if i can anymore.' she said. 'but if you could, would you?' i cannot adequately describe the intensity of what i was feeling at that moment. love, anger, sadness, hope, and fear, whirling together sharpened by the nervousness i was feeling. jamie looked at me curiously any my breaths became shallower. suddenly i knew that id never felt as strongly for another person as i did at that moment. as i returned her gaze, this simple realization made me wish for the millionth time that i could make all this go away. had it been possible, i would have traded my life for hers. i wanted to tell her my thoughts, but the sound of her voice suddenly silenced the emotions inside me. 'yes' she finally said, her voice weak yet somehow still full of promise. ' i would.' finally getting control of myself i kissed her again, then brot my hand to her face, gently running my fingers over her cheek. i marveled at the softness of her skin, the gentleness i saw in her eyes. even now she was perfect. my throat began to tighten again, but as i said, i knew wat i had to do. since i had to accept that it was not within my power to cure her, what i wanted to do was give her something that shed wanted. it was wat my heart had been telling me to do all along. jamie, i understood then, had already given me the answer id been searching for, the answer my heart needed to find. shed told me outside mr. jenkins office, the night wed asked him about doing the play. i smiled softly, and she returned my affection with a slight squeeze of my hand, as if trusting me in wat i was about to do. encouraged, i leaned closer and took a deep breath. when i exhaled, these were the words that flowed with my breath. 'will you marry me?"
— Nicholas Sparks (A Walk to Remember)

The Bell Jar

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."
— Sylvia Plath (The Bell Jar)

A Neruda Poem I like so much

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. "
— Pablo Neruda