What does it mean to trust ?

What does it mean to be alive?Does it mean to be able to breathe the beautiful morning?
What does it mean to be able to wrap your arms around the wide sky?I guess it means to able to help one more soul,without getting worried about the hurt and betrayal.
A lot of times i have stated that the primary job of a poet is to burn, blow and break in order create golden generation through golden copulations -between Soulful, Intense and the one's who have chaos in their souls.
I am left wondering everytime why do i continue to have affection for certain people inspite of them not measuring up to my beliefs. I guess the time has come for me to satrt looking at things from a long term perspective. relationships require a lot of warmth, care and ability to put the 'other' above anything else including oneself. In love, Only 'You exists', ' I ' has to die. may be i am too idealistic to say with a firm belief that " Trust is something that makes the world a better place ".

Inspite the betrayals and setbacks, I firmly believe that we live in a civilised world and we have to trust fellow humans. In the end i am reminded of what Gandhiji said - trust is something that will make the world a better place.

" He Lives well who lives lightly,
hoards nothing,
Let go the air he breathes - to draw in more"

In the end we are all bound by our own beliefs and as some wise man said ," Those who live by sword, die by it ", In a similar context can i say that the ones who breaks the trust of fellow humans bear the taste of it. Anyway at the end of life you know what you have done , I for sure will die with a clear concience - Peaceful man.

understand it, there is no choice :-)

If suppressed, you never experience the thing in its totality, you never gain anything out of it. Wisdom comes through suffering and wisdom comes through acceptance. Whatsoever the case, be at ease with it.Don’t look to society and its condemnation. Nobody is to judge you here and nobody can pretend to be a judge. Don’t judge others and don’t be perturbed and disturbed by others’ judgment. You are alone and you are unique. You never were before, you never will be again. You are beautiful. Accept it. And whatsoever happens, allow it to happen and pass through it. Soon, suffering will be a learning; then it has become creative.Fear will give you fearlessness. Out of anger will come compassion. Out of the understanding of hate, love will be born to you. But this happens not in a conflict, but in a passing-through with alert awareness. Accept, and pass through it. And if you make it a point to pass through every experience, then there will be death, the most intense experience. Life is nothing before it because life cannot be so intense as death.Life is spread out over a long time – seventy years, one hundred years. Death is intense because it is not spread out – it is in a single moment. Life has to pass one hundred years or seventy years, it cannot be so intense. Death comes in a single moment; it comes whole, not fragmentary. It will be so intense you cannot know anything more intense. But if you are afraid, if before death comes you have escaped, you have be-come unconscious because of the fear, you have missed one of the golden opportunities, the golden gate. If your whole life you have been accepting things, when death comes, patiently, passively you will accept and enter into it without any effort to escape. If you can enter death passively, silently, without any effort, death disappears.Suffering is there but just around you; it is not in the center, it is on the periphery. It is impossible for suffering to be in the center; it is not in the nature of things. It is always on the periphery and you are the center.we lot of times allow ourselves to be enamoured by suffering , grief as we allow it to become the core, It is not the core, YOU ARE. You are unique, bautiful and as someone posted on her wall " ...like everyone else".

lend me a song

Lend me just one more song
My beloved lord

The fire of my heart seems to be extinguishing
Lend me just one more spark
My beloved lord

Me, the one of tender age
Is saddled with all the ripe pain
Words too seem to have deserted me
Don’t know what to do with this wisdom of sage

Lend me some more of your virgin pain
My beloved lord

Lend me a song that resembles my youth
The one that I lost
It shd resemble the red of the rising sun
That fills the lake with Blood
It shd resemble the brightness of first star of eve
Shining in my water filled saucer

Oh I guess eve of my life inches too
Lend me a star or two
My beloved lord

Life, mine too is like the red
The one that you make
Enamor the lake
Lord, cant live thru the day without the beloved
And how to love her without a song
I guess, I still need to learn that art
Ooh every one hears the laughter
While I sew the blood dripping wounds of my heart

All the streams are beloved of the dear
Even if they hide the ones who put a spear
The nector from my eyes,
Flows untouched, ignored drowning the muted cries

Lent me, the love that cuts like sword
Oh my beloved lord!

what is it?

"As I look back over my life I am struck by post cards Ruined Snap shots faded posters Of a time, I can't recall.I am a guide to the Labyrinth Monarch of the protean towers on this cool stone patio above the iron mist sunk in its own waste breathing its own breath"....I guess i have all the makings of a saint. That's the trouble. What do they seek from me? what were they after? I had never asked anything of them; it is they who wish to hold me, they who press a claim on me—and the claim seemed to have the form of affection, but it was a form which i find hard to endure than any sort of hatred. Why do i despise this causeless affection, just as I despise unearned wealth. They professed to love me for some unknown reason and they ignored all the things for which I wish to be loved. Everytime I am left wondering what response they could hope to obtain from me in such manner—if my response is what they want. And it is, i think; else why these constant complaints, those unceasing accusations about my indifference? Why that chronic air of suspicion, as if they are waiting to be hurt? I have no desire to hurt anyone, but why do i always feel their defensive, reproachful expectation; they seemed wounded by anything I say, it is not a matter of my words or actions, it is almost . . . almost as if they are Wounded by the mere fact of my being. I guess I am imagining the insane, struggling to face the riddle with the strictest of my ruthless sense of justice. I can not condemn her without understanding; and I can not understand. Do i like the people in my so called life? No, i had always wanted to like them, which is not the same. I wanted to do it in the name of some unstated potentiality which I had once expected to see in any human being. I feel nothing for them now, nothing but the merciless zero of indifference, not even the regret of a loss. Do I need any person as part of my life anymore? Do I miss the feeling I had wanted to feel? No, I think…. Will I come out unscathed? Will I live to fight another day? No, I think, in my youth; may be, not any longer.....

pain

Sometimes my pain amuses me,when the observer in me watches the observed,
seething and writhing in pain it is a queer feeling,
It's there b'cos i wanted it to be there.It's the potion by which the physician in me heals my sick self,
Most of my pain is self chosen.
Like someone said"As long as stars are burning,as long as dreams are churning," i say pain will keep pruning and
opening mew vistas,new horizons,
Lands unseen and emotions untouched,untravelled.
It will shake your beliefs,Your I's.
It reveals what was concelaed to you,
opening the heart of the fruit,
revealing it to the sun.
herein i discard it not like a garment but i peel it off like skin from my body.Hidden underneath is what kahlil says Joy-Bliss.
Ooh my pain is Joy unmasked.
Now i can welcome pain and joy in my life like the farmer who welcomes seasons on his feild.

I sell you a dream

I sell you a dream,
I will give you wings,
To fly in clear blue sky.
I sell you a dream,
I will give you freedom,
For the way you want to live,
The way you want to die.
Watch my clan,
Sprawled across the land,
Like signatures in colours,
Over myriad sands.
Co’s I am death,The gateway to that land of freedom and austerity.