Thursday, May 24, 2012

Longing

How I yearn for the heights beyond. Tonight I beheld a sky filled with stars, plains far and open to the widest dome, lands crawling to the seam of misty hills.
Distance stretched across the fields while I sought closeness of a certain kind,
doomed to live a life of death whilst dreams float free.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

habit death

[...]
"Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action,
Into that haven of freedom, my Father,
Let my country awake."

(From the pen of Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali)

While Rabindranath Tagore used his pen, I would say mine is unfortunately rusting, with a tendency to rust more in the near future without intervention. Settled down in every aspect for now, all ready to take off... where to? What for did I settle down? Future beckons but future is never here. Radios blare sets of songs with the intersection of last week's set with this week's almost equaling the current set. Two cities and a huge number of books at my disposal. A train to Mannheim would take me to an unknown coordinate system, the city in squares, but then my home is up in the hills and I must return there in the evenings. Life at present seems like a balance act between habit and exploration, between the predictable and the spontaneous.