Cosmos
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Transcript of Cosmos
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Cosmos
Anurag Das
Accessory Design
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About the book
“ “ There is pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.””
Lord Byron From the vast horizon to the tiny morning dew, From the dark silhouttes to the ever glowing sources of light,
This book is all about how i percive nature, and describe as i see it everyday.
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There must have been many a roads taken, many a words spoken. Of whatever you did,
or whatever thats supposed to be done Have you ever thought about the, Missing Links
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Missing Links
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Blowing in the Wind
““Being noticed can be a burden Jesus got himself crucified because
he got himself noticed So I disappear a lot”
Bob Dylan
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Blowing in the Wind
For there is a plant in you, and a plant me.
The Veins Within
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Freedom
Break free -Burst the chains that bind youRip through those padded cuffs;Set your mind free.
Just let go -Release the breath you’ve held so longScream those words you’ve kept secretYou’ve got nothing to lose.
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your LIFE
AwakeArise,And appear. From your pre-destined slumber.Life’s lottery has selected your number. Live,LaughAnd love.Your way through this world.These feelings can’t be bought nor sold. Struggle,StressAnd survive.Through the hardships and pain.These feelings have proven impossible to tame. Deteriorate,DisintegrateAnd die. Every story must have an end.
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Heights
Where were you while we were getting high.
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Doors
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.”
William Blake”
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Branches
They fan out reaching for the open sky A distant dream they will never reach
Rooted to the earth they stretch out But as they do, the trunk holds them back
And chilly winds ruffle their leaves Soon white snow falls from the stars,
As they are forced to take a rest Then, green sprouts, and up they go,
Higher, higher just a little bit more- Forever reaching for the eternal stars.
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Typewriter Blues
Click, clack, and the blotters leap at the paper.Click, clack, an impression is made.Click, clack, my fingers in their improvised dance Click, clack, they dance as the fit seizes them.Click, clack, in the end, is there meaning?Click, clack, I’m making love to my release.Click, clack, does it even matter?Click, clack, it doesn’t.Click, clack, as long as the rhythm continues.Click, clack.
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Contrails
Contrails, are my past vapors... partially remembered burning away with the sun of today
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Empty Clothesline
Strung upon the empty clothesline,Hope waits in the pale moonlight
Seeking to findThat day.
That night.In the autumn shadows
Of the morning sun.
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Wind and Windows
I can fly.
Not in a conventional sense, but I can still fly.
There’s nothing I love more than watching the world whiz by,
the wind whipping through my hair and ripping cold tears from my eyes.
My ‘wings’ can take me anywhere, so long as I buckle in.
Once up to speed, nothing can separate me from that freedom. I’ll fly down the highways as much as I like.
Though the wind stings my skin and lesions of goosebumps plague my arms, I can’t resist my flying time.
I can’t stay away from my ‘wings.’
It seems silly, but my favorite thing in the whole world is to simply feel the wind rush as I hang out the window of my ‘wings’
like a dog, blink away the bitter tears, and grin like a nut as all my worries are left miles away.
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Vultures
For there’s life even in the ones who live on the dead.
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ShadowI am the phantom,I am the mask,I am the future,I am the past, I am the boulder that crashes down,And crushes the cookie crumbs into the ground,I am the minstrel that sings an adage,And struts and frets upon my stage, I am the minion, and I am the rule;I am the player, and I am the fool –I’m many, but one – I’m several, but few,There’s a little in me, and a little in you,I’m the ladder that fell into the sea,And the box where my toys are waiting for me, I’m a lamp in the dark,I’m a mountain in cloud,I’m the head of an office,And the dust on a shroud, I’m the missile that’s screaming over your head –I’m the bastard who fired it, and I’m also the dead.I’m the husband who kisses in a honeymoon suite,I’m the lover who sweeps you off of your feet,I am the music,I am the night,I am the rage,And I am the fight.
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I am the sword in your bloody left hand,And I am the shield that protected you as you ran,
I am the mirror, and I am the voice –I am you, less your soul, and you, less your choice –
You can make me by walk,You can make me by talk,
I watch you, and never do I fade –A silent killer,
A constant thriller,The one you’ll never escape.
I am the shadow,I am the night,
I am the soldier,I am the fight,
I am the shroud,And I am the dust,
I am the love,And I am the lust,
I am the teeth,And I am the claw,
I am the lawless,And I am the law.
I am all that the world can find,
But I can be all in your wandering mind.Don’t try to find me,Don’t turn around –
I am your shadow,And I’m watching you now.
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silhouttes
We speed down the highwayStuffed in the tiny car
Two to a seat
Laughing and screaming out lyricsTo songs we don’t understand
Falling in love with silhouettesUnder the flashing city lights
Listening to words of wisdomComing from the mouths of teenage boys
High on life and laughterBut the surprising thing is
It’s all true
We are soothed by familiar voicesAs we speed down the highway
Falling in love With silhouettes in the dark
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Textured Sky
Its wonderfulto notice, how the different shades of blue, red and green
paint up the textured sky.
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Sources of Light
Light here , Light there.
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Dewdrops
Silence their symphony, Unnoticed existence, their pride.
They fall to live another day and laugh as they say goodbye.
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Obsession
Its a rhythm Its a prideIts a feeling Its a ride I’am confused, if its a blessing, or a curse Maybe its a creation, Or just another obsession.
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Coffee and Cigarettes
The magical mixture that keeps the world awake.
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Cosmos Ends.
or Maybe not...
““The poetry of the earth is never dead.””
John Keats
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