My future holds too many answers to this world, this world holds none for me or rather holds them all to itself.
the mild One
Sunday, March 30, 2008
learning to fly
Finding patterns in the creation is an infinitely small confluence of the frequency of the design of the universe and the frequency of thought. The thinker proves himself as intelligent as the creation. The thinker goes crazy according to this world. This world is no place for him.
time, ratios, music, art...
I do not find patterns in the creation. I find patterns in this world. I find patterns in the design of this world. I am happy that i am as intelligent as this world. Oh! We share the same spirit. I am intelligent enough just to realise that. I shall design for this world, for it has to reach perfection which again, can never be reached because of the numerous rules the spirit adheres to or rather is forced to follow. Nevertheless i shall be a designer till i remain in this world and do my part. Then i shall fly away.
time, ratios, music, art...
I do not find patterns in the creation. I find patterns in this world. I find patterns in the design of this world. I am happy that i am as intelligent as this world. Oh! We share the same spirit. I am intelligent enough just to realise that. I shall design for this world, for it has to reach perfection which again, can never be reached because of the numerous rules the spirit adheres to or rather is forced to follow. Nevertheless i shall be a designer till i remain in this world and do my part. Then i shall fly away.
Monday, March 17, 2008
listening to colours
As i start painting, color over color, i realize how beautiful they are. The ones that looked bland when alone, looked lovely with another bland one. What the eye failed to see when seeing it alone, comes to life with another. Everything is relative.
Lovely notes from the piano waver the mind. Just lovely notes. I listen to them everyday. I am saturated. Then the accidental. It injects a deep violet in a lovely pink. Awesome. The violet looks all the more lovely in the pink. The one chord kills me in saturation. Everything is relative.
The state of mind, the age of heart, the green and the blue, the major and the 7th, the good and the bad, everything is relative. I do not identify one without the other. Everything is relative.
And destiny is relative to the start.
Lovely notes from the piano waver the mind. Just lovely notes. I listen to them everyday. I am saturated. Then the accidental. It injects a deep violet in a lovely pink. Awesome. The violet looks all the more lovely in the pink. The one chord kills me in saturation. Everything is relative.
The state of mind, the age of heart, the green and the blue, the major and the 7th, the good and the bad, everything is relative. I do not identify one without the other. Everything is relative.
And destiny is relative to the start.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
what not
I crave for something, it moves away.
It starts to move away just when i realize that i want it.
It increases the craving all the more.
Desperation.
I try to cover the distance.
Hope.
I do not know whether i am moving towards it or further away.
Desolation.
It starts to move away just when i realize that i want it.
It increases the craving all the more.
Desperation.
I try to cover the distance.
Hope.
I do not know whether i am moving towards it or further away.
Desolation.
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