Gray Pieces of Memory

8/14/2019 Gray Pieces of Memory

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Gray Pieces of Memory

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May be days,months,or even years,I am sitting on the shorewaiting for the wavesto bring the moonlight.

I doubt the moon would ever greet me.I doubt the waves would knowwhere the moonlight is.

In exile,the wind never blows.The waves,heavy and slow,only bring the dark memoryof the deep.

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The gulls,singing the old song,collecting the wordsI have long thrownout of the window.

Two boats,tied together,the men in dream.


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The fish have migratedto the other side of sunlight.Darkness shall last.The men are waiting in vain.

The gulls are collecting my words,putting them togetherlike a chain of beads.But it can not be a songand hardly a poem.

The gullsare singing the old song.There is no choice.

3

Dawn,flies over the fieldof lilies.In the silence of the grasslife plays a gamewith the poppies.

Sitting with the memories of grass,flowers teach methe virtue of silence.

Wondering,how do the flowerstalk to each other.

Behind the wall,there is the smell of jasmine.The birds wash their wingsin the smell.Lilies dream of moonlight.I dream of the daythat was not there.


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4

In vain,I shout.This wind which blows,east to west,brings but the poisonous air,injecting in my lungs.Like a dead fishstill sitting on the sand,soundless, motionless.How long is it ?Wind screams,screams,shouts,I only feel the nightmare,I only hear the cry of pain,inside me.

I crawl once moreinto my inner feelings.I smell the blood and poison.

There is a voice inside me,

but far from being meaningful.Or, may be,it is only amnesia.

Time goes;time comes,and goes again.In this ruin that I am,time has lost its meaning.


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5

It is the day of sacrifice.The owl,on this broken mud wallsinging the songfrom dusk to dawn,from the beginning of manto the end of skeleton.From the day of my birth,to the dayI sacrificed my thought.

Hooooooo, Hooooooo, Hooooooo.

Some one will be born,some one will be sacrificed.

All desires are dead.All the leaves have fallen.All the flowers are dry.

A single wave,heavy,slow,in silence,washes the last footstepson the sand.

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I walk in my dream,


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lost in the mist.No sunset, no sunrise.No dusk, no dawn.

There is a bridgebetween two clouds.Dream passes into history.War, peace,fire, death,metal, wood,metallic carriages,wooden horses.

Dream passes through time,to the dawn of man.Thunder,rain,snow,ice,birth,death,fight,blood,love,hate,killing,and..I would not change,only the dreamfrom time to time.

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Somewhere,

in the depth of the valley,the first greengreets the spring.Somewhere,in the middle of street,a window opens to the sunlight.Somewhere,by the doorlips smile at a stranger.Somewhere,a window stays closed.


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There is dust on glasses.Somewhere,a fresh grave is opened.There,smile is buried for ever.

I carry the painof all the dried fields,to eternity.

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While napping ,I wake with the attackof colors.I open the window of thoughtand strangers,red,blue,green,and yellowfly in.They sit,each one,on corner of papers.In the space of nothingness

I begin lifewith my dream.

There is no yesterday,there is no tomorrow,but today has no meaning also.

I close the window.The colors die.I burry them all.The paper is still


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in the waste basket.

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I wonder ifI have been dwellingin your dream.Or,you are living in my conscious.Trees are singing with you.

There is a white line,white line of flight,between two hearts.The darkness of your eyesbring me the night.I live on earth,you are the moon.I am the leaf,you are the blossom.Sing back to the birdwhich is singing for you.

You have landed in my thought.Believe in faith,the faith in the white linebetween us.There is always the flight of thought.Eternity is not far away.


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10

The cloudcarries the a song.The heart opens to love.

The heart blossoms,with roses,in the rain.

Bird flies.The miracle is the white line,from heart to heart.In the palm of my hand,the wonder flower grows.

I wash my memoryin the rain.I breath the wet song.The memory never dies.

Spring brings the smellof love,which flew with usover the gardens of eternity.

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You step in the pond,trees send their shadows for you.


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Water plays the mirror,your reflectionis dancing with the wind.And,the music and the songspresented by the nightingales.

The birds and the treesinvite you to their receptionwith pure water of pondand the apples, cherries,and the songs.

Flight of the birdsthe wind,the songsand lines of colors in the airfollows your dream,flying with my memory.

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Windows open to light,widows open to air,one window opens in me,

my window opens to you.

A window opens to my dream.A window opens in my thought,A window opens to my memory.The smell of the spring flies in.

I open the window to you,your light shines in my soul.I open the window to my memory,your love flies in.


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13

There is the seaand the rock.There are the wavesand the light.I engrave you on the rock,kneel to worship.The waves bring the music.In silence,I pray to you.

There is the rockand the sea,and yourising with the sunin the mornings.


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My inheritance from this summer,is the sun and the dry soil.I lost the season.A dried ivy,tied to the branches of the dry tree.No leaves,no fruits,no live branches,no roots.An skeleton,wooden,dry,soulless,dreaming of grape.


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15

I tried to understand you,I lost myself.I tried to understand myself,I lost the world.In this eternal desert,I am looking for my footstepson the hot sand.Burned feet,and tired soul;but a voice is calling me,to take this road,again and again.For few drops of water,for a shade and a tree,climbing the sand dunes,only some dried bushes.A hot breath,and my dream went up with the smokeof the burning shrubs.

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Like a snakeI crawl in this landof mud and grass.It is sunset or sunrise,


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I do not know.In this hallucination,

when it is the endof sky and stars,I understand,I feel,I am in this dark and wet tunnel.Hot drops of melting stoneburning my skin.I think,it is my blood.but in this darkness,I can only imagine.I cry,and my tears burn my face.

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To think,is the only pleasure of lifeleft for me.From the far away summer,I smell the grass.

Roses are dancingunder the rain.I began to singbut can not hear my voice.

Behind the rainbow,you are bright as a goddess.You are smiling,and from your handthe rain falls.


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There is the smell of damp soil.I have lost direction.I pound the wallsand then silence.I lay down.Dark,wet,no air,I am in my grave.

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Words fallingfalling down,free falling,like drops of waterof the waterfall.Words falling,meaningless.

Drops hitting the rock,the nothingness,no,turning shape,joining the fall.then the stream.

And once more,another fall,

another rock,drops turn to stream.And, reincarnation.

We go up,we come down,pass through air,purification,renewal,rebirth,and


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up again.

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Rain,washes the dust.Garden,full of love,full of red.

I am just an scarecrow,no doubt.full of hay,full of shrub.Some times damp,sorrowful dampnessfrom distress tears.

Rain stops.Garden is dark.full of sorrow,full of green.

The sun sets.Garden goes to sleep.Full of night,full of secrets,full of black.


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I am a hostageof my memories,in silence,dreamless,chainless,under the shadow of vultures.

Come to my dark island,in the ditches I have dug.I am in war with my soul.We sit together by the fire,till morning.

Come visit me,to the islandof the bewitched man,in silenceand endless nightmare.

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The mirror,does not reflect me,butwhat I have done,what time has cut


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into my life.

All I haveis artificial flowers,lifeless,with smell of paper.

I look at myself;words fly by,meaningless,heartless.

In this land of animosity,bitterness,hate,and cold blood,I lost my soul.

With agony,anguish,anxiety,distress,I stop on the words.Reality flies away.

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A promise for tomorrow,was a reality yesterday.And todaywhich promise shall bring happiness.

Life changes skin,

hopelessness.And despairingflies in from the window,with few dried and brownburned leaves.

Wretchednesssimply walks in.I need a song.May be next springthe birds shall bring it


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with the first breeze of love.

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You have stolenmy dreams,in the early springwhen dream is the only remedymirage,mirage in fog.And the last flowerflies away to sunset.

You have taken my last tears.So,from summerto the next summerI have to wait for a dream.

In this sultry landon which I travel,no grass grows.

The birdshave taken their dreamto the far away grassland.

So,in this heartless wasteland,I can only dreamof rain and forest.You have stolen my dreams.


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I am looking for wordsin this land of tradewhich even conscious,life,intention,apprehensionis for sale.and,realization of thought,not even thought,can bring the chainand ax.

Devotion,is long forgotten.Affection is the great sin.And attachment,brings you shame.

I am looking for the moon,in this land of dirt and darkness.You can hear a word of love,from a mouth.Taste of lighthas long been forgotten.

Have doubt of the messagethe ravens bring you.The night can bring but darkness.


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You are singing in my ear,a lullaby,

like a secret murmur.You walk in my heart,climbing every stepsto my memory.We set togetherwith the sunin the horizon.

I open the windowto realization.You are calling me to escape,to run to freedom.But the message is vague.

You rise in meas the moon.You fly in my heartlike a breeze.And you murmur;this is not lovehanging from you neck,but an animosity enduredin your loneliness .

You have the poisonof disgust in your hand.Do not let it touch your lips.Turn and look at the sunriseon the sea.

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A piece of rope on the waves.I thought it was a dead fish.The shadows play a game.Far in the sea,where water and fire meet,the sun is setting.Blood is dropping from the clouds.Or, the whole sky is on fire.


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Few minutes late,it is all gray smoke.Tonight,the moon shall not lightthe road we are traveling.In darkness,memories fly faster.

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Dream flies,like a gull, a seagullon the wavesand with the wind.You are the sea.Wings converge your smell.Tonight the moonis rising from your island.

I have to fly over the fog.You are in the mist.I follow your smell,there is no other way.


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28

Days and dayswithout you.Days and daysin fog.You can not be seen,andI am left onlywith memoriesand words.

To day,without you,I lost myself in the fog.Without you,without me,we are lost in the fog.These bitter daysthese resentful days,these dead moments.Even the memories

are bitter.

The waves are tired.Sea drinks them backIn this lost graveyardof lost cause,though I endured.I lost me,I lost you,I lost the essence of life.


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29

In anxiety,distressful,I am walkingin my soul.Of hesitationandapprehension,I decayed.Repeating you in me,I am hallucinating.With fingers and fingernails,I am carving your memoryon the wall.


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You rap your soulin your arms;in a cover of caution,expectation,and love.An armful of brushwith a secretof colorful memory,you arm yourselfand your wounded soul.

Wind is blowingin the leaves of my curtain.Poetry screaming,fire dancing,wind blowing the sandin the desert.Sea gives birthto the caves.And,the breeze in the sail of our shiptakes us through the magic seaof love.

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Grief, is dropping seedsand soonthere shall be a forest.

We hide our grievesbehind a glass of wine,behind a curtain,andbehind false and insincere laughter.


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Wind blows hard,and our loud crystays unheardunder the roofof the gray room.

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Tomorrowis my marvel.My lips repeat your name.Your name is a desire.A windowwhich affixes mewith sea and grass.

I open the window,nightmare escapes,

and your dream flies in.Stars are raining from the roof.Moonlight blends with the air.I am inebriated.

Town is in darkness.No news of the stormbeing born.Soon, there shall be no townbutgrass and flight


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shall remain,so do the words.

Look,tomorrowis our mirror.

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The mirror crieswhen your reflection appears.Your face flies into mist.

It is raining on the hillwhere I shall reliveyour memory.

Garden has a compulsionfor your smell.Grape does not ripewithout you.There shall be no wine.

At the end,there shall beyour delicate memory left.

In the half fairy-tale, half history,you shall be a legend.And I,I shall repeat the words.


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34

You are lostin gloom.Connection is abandonedin this confusion.You must hear my words.Darkness,I carry the darknesson my back.It is the weightof thousands of years of griefI bear.

I can no more deceive myself.I can not give you a presentof falsity,fiction,and torment.

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You have hidden your soul,and, I am looking for words.Words which can only define youWords to define your desirability.

You are hiddenfrom me and my memory.I am left to myselfwith dark souland darker conscious.

I fly with the wind,travel with the waves,sink in the sea,sit by the stars.But thenI fall with the first rain.

Aspiration,is just a word for you.Dance with the wind,so smile can return to you.I write,but you are the words.I sing,but you are the song.I read,but you are the book.

I look up,sky opens,you fly.You are the flight.

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Birthis an accident,an unwanted, undesired accident.We carry our birthlike waves on the sea.

For fear of deathwe hold to a piece of word.Waves carrying usto our destiny.we only look at


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where the water and sky meet.

Destiny is the landwe can never see.We wait,may be,just may be,the next wavewould take us to that land.But,we get thereand we seeonly a dry island.

Destiny,just a few bubbles of happiness,before death flies infrom the window.Like our birth,we can take no partin how to pace death;our last destiny.

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My contemplationspread, expand,like cloud.Brings darkness to the house.Extends,to cover the fields.

I hear your voicebehind the windowI open it,darkness comes in.

Moon has left us,and light,has long been forgotten.

Love is droppingfrom the leaves;one drop at a time.Flowers and butterflieswash themselvesin its tenderness.


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Calamityhas surrounded me.No message,no besiege.

Tired,I gave up the storm.Storm took meto the land of neglect.I graved myself in sandto rest.


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Street is without breath.We all loved the spring,but nights have taken the smell.

It is raining,Trees dancing in the rain.Air is greeting the spring,but every one is crying.

There are pictures on the wall,there are coffins under the trees.Men are digging the graves,Women are mourning the dead.Tears are no more the answer.

Black houses,black walls,black trees,black flowers,and the noise.Fire goes on burning.

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Green leaves smileon dead treesin your dream.

I become eternalin my dreamand flowers blossomwith your song.

The wind brings the cloud,moon makes a comeback,gives you a present,a chain of stars.


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Sleep here,I can no more toleratethe cloudy skyover my house.

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Why did you escape ?You were running down the street.Trees are crying,no one else sitsunder their shadow.

Day is greeting me,through the window.It is your smile.

You brought a basket of fruit,full of red, yellow, and green.It was the color of your songs.

The house is silence now.

Without you,the words dont dance.They loose their color,their music.Song are meaningless now.


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I wait.The road turns,turning with the trees.In the silence of the shadows,your thought blossoms.

Cloud promises rain.Wild daisieson the side of the roadturn to the sky.Your tearsrain on them.

The thought of springbrings a garden of roses.The thought of youbrings a house full of smile.

Do not take your smile away.Spring shall never returnwithout your smile.


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Where did it go,the story of my life.I was telling youabout the tendernessof the mornings.The two eyesleft me.And I was backin the story of my life.

I lost the world.Open the doorto the same story of yesterday.I talk to rainof compassion the flowers have.Cloud gives me your smell.

I walk the nightlooking for your eyes.Forgetting,the sun rises from them.

Do no take your eyes from me,I want to see the light of the morning.

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In new bed,with new song,river


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cleans the dust of yesterdayfrom the memory of rocks.

It is another sky,with another blue.you, sun,bring the morning.

I laughat the thought of yesterday.How foolish.The flowers were ashen, dull,till you brought the color.

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I have lost the storyI used to tell about dawn.Where are those eyes,

I could see the worldthrough them.

I open the window,yesterdays story flies in.I tell the rainof the charm of the flowers.

Dawn brings inred, blue and yellowof the field.


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She came,too late.dawn was gone.

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She is sittingin the middle of gardentalking to the stars.I am waiting for the cloud.

I admire the cloudbut it is longsince I felt the drop of rain.It no more fallson my face and life.

Call me,I have taken my cloths out,waiting for the cold.Look at me,

I adorethe ice and snow.


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48

How simple it wasthe childhood.Jasmines were growingin my hand.I wasted it,thinking and waiting for today.I see the end of the street.It is all empty.

I rantill I reached the shore.Shore was lost in mist.There was no rejoicing.

How simple it was,the childhood.Jasmines are all dead.


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Now,I am standingon the heavy sideof my life.Each daycloser to dust.

Years have goneand now,I am hearing the songand her shadow.The songof the free bird.

Live, you lady of the songs,you are the bird,you are the freedom,you are the concept of life,you are the life.

But,you dont know the pain.You can not know the pain.You can run to reach here,but then,I am gone.

Sing lady.It may be my last desire.

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The wind,is taking the springfrom my soul.I closed the doorsbut the wind


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came in through the windows.

I put the world togetherwith pieces of papers.Papers with your name on them.

One candle light,and the end of my world.Only your name remained.

Gray Pieces of Memory

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