tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339704572024-03-05T19:28:25.715+05:30song of sacredeastwindplease don't forget to feed my fish at the bottom of the page. you just have to click on 'the aquarium' and drop their food.sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.comBlogger136125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-45831121561663806782011-06-27T01:00:00.000+05:302011-06-27T01:00:57.236+05:30bored & moving<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">someone recently sold tumblr to me, not literally, of course. it just seems cleaner & more suited now. and i need a change. i don't know why. sometimes things don't need to make sense. so moving here (http://songofsacredeastwind.tumblr.com/) for a bit... lets see if i last. <br />
<br />
<br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-73941369952011884722011-06-06T17:27:00.002+05:302011-06-07T11:48:40.409+05:30el natural<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">When I miss you (wilderness) <br />
I drive off without my shoes <br />
With one song on repeat<br />
And each time the song ends<br />
I forget to breathe <br />
<br />
-<br />
<br />
So full of love <br />
Brightly lit and perfumed inside<br />
This constant rush <br />
I'm afraid <br />
If i was really with you (green meadow) <br />
I'd explode<br />
<br />
-<br />
<br />
the day the wind sings to me <br />
my body will rise into the sky<br />
break into smithereens<br />
of silver & ash<br />
and softly fall<br />
unto each part <br />
of this thing called 'earth'<br />
<br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-239771792008079772011-06-01T15:22:00.000+05:302011-06-01T15:22:03.565+05:30I without You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I scream <br />
to forget <br />
I learn <br />
it doesn't help <br />
It only makes <br />
your voice <br />
grow louder<br />
in my head <br />
in my heart<br />
in my being <br />
<br />
I breathe <br />
I try hard <br />
even to smile <br />
it all seems convoluted <br />
strained<br />
estranged I stand<br />
on the edge of a long bridge<br />
it leads nowhere<br />
but to the deep sea<br />
and i can't jump<br />
into it <br />
for<br />
you're not there <br />
<br />
I wonder <br />
how I could <br />
be so blind <br />
so closed <br />
so lost <br />
as to not see <br />
that you were too <br />
lost <br />
amidst a crowd<br />
amidst fanfare <br />
with a fake smile <br />
fake familiarity <br />
nothing was real <br />
<br />
I go<br />
deep into <br />
the dark crevices <br />
inside you & me <br />
and look for <br />
something <br />
we never had <br />
something <br />
you never wanted <br />
or needed <br />
and I did <br />
I imagined it <br />
but wanted it <br />
I did<br />
<br />
I lose<br />
myself again<br />
I find <br />
the metallic taste <br />
in me <br />
in my mouth <br />
in my being <br />
in everything<br />
around me <br />
everything <br />
bereft of you<br />
your words <br />
your sense<br />
your being<br />
your familiarity<br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-51644350261185880352011-05-27T08:44:00.002+05:302011-05-27T08:44:47.706+05:30Shoebox<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You are my last love song <br />
Beyond this I don't know what lies <br />
Too scared to finish, afraid to try<br />
Think I'm going to end this here<br />
And let you fly<br />
Away<br />
<br />
Putting my heart in a shoebox<br />
That'll keep it safe from all the ache<br />
You might look down upon this <br />
You might try and talk me out <br />
I don't care <br />
Try <br />
<br />
I don't want to dance no more <br />
Dancing just makes you end up falling <br />
Fallen I have, this time too <br />
But I will rise, never to fall again<br />
Its too late <br />
Goodbye </div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-87953748210720462092011-04-28T15:20:00.001+05:302011-04-28T15:20:23.199+05:30Beautiful Dawn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You're the most stunning thing I've seen <br />
You're the most wonderful feeling I've felt <br />
You've changed me around<br />
I'm a better me <br />
You've turned my life<br />
Into a summer day<br />
And I am happy <br />
And grateful <br />
For your gracious presence<br />
Your love <br />
<br />
Yet on those rare days<br />
I will need to leave your side<br />
I will need to burn my own pyre<br />
And mourn the loss of something<br />
I'd cherished but not protected well<br />
I didn't lose it really <br />
But in a way I did too <br />
And so I will mourn <br />
And there's nothing you could do<br />
to change that or bring it back<br />
or make it afresh or create anew<br />
Its something you cannot do<br />
No one can <br />
<br />
But trust me, my love <br />
I will mourn on that one night <br />
And that one night only<br />
And once I'm done <br />
I will return <br />
To no one but you<br />
I will rise from my own ashes <br />
And start afresh <br />
Living the happiest life <br />
With you<br />
<br />
Before you love me so<br />
You must, must know<br />
That I am a Phoenix of sorts <br />
Someone with a dreary, dark past <br />
And if you can<br />
Then would you<br />
Would you please <br />
Take me the way I am</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-19558942528693316302011-04-12T18:28:00.000+05:302011-04-12T18:28:10.330+05:30golden love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">sweet saccharine you, my golden love <br />
i paint a pretty picture with all those shades<br />
that make a rainbow look biutiful <br />
i don't know you, never seen you<br />
but i know when i do <br />
you'll look something like that <br />
<br />
you might not be golden <br />
you might not smile <br />
you might not have great hair<br />
you might even be a bit trite <br />
<br />
but you'll be something to me<br />
no, you'll be everything to me <br />
and i will be all that and more <br />
to you and only you <br />
<br />
nobody knows that the sun shines<br />
deep inside my heart <br />
and this sun is spelt just like you are <br />
warm, aglow, shiny but far <br />
<br />
someday not too far from now <br />
you will escape from my heart <br />
and flow out through my veins <br />
into my life like a shooting star <br />
<br />
that day there'll be a hop in my step <br />
i'll wear a soothing summer flow(y) dress <br />
and we'll be golden together <br />
with your warmth, aglow, shiny, no more far <br />
<br />
<br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-3570355561285757642011-02-27T21:02:00.002+05:302011-02-27T21:02:46.128+05:30in my sky, in my sky<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">you started first <br />
so, you were the one to finish first <br />
the burn in your eyes <br />
spontaneous combustion -- tearjerker <br />
i was looking but i didn't see<br />
mine were full of snow <br />
<br />
i saw you bloat, float into the night <br />
like a blimp, my frog in the sky <br />
and then the morning sun rose <br />
<br />
people owned sharp objects <br />
they were prepared<br />
but i didn't want it, i didn't care<br />
you looked prettier in the sky <br />
than when you stood next to me <br />
said 'i'm ok'<br />
<br />
you slipped so fast <br />
from a sloppy flyer to someone who knew<br />
there, quite simply, to a man you grew <br />
and me, i stood aground <br />
waiting for the accidental notes to dissipate <br />
waiting for the bleeding fingers to sew new key notes<br />
into another beating fist <br />
<br />
now, i have fish in my sky <br />
they float unperturbed, keep a look out <br />
and i, put colour on canvas <br />
to drive them away<br />
from my <br />
blackened heart <br />
<br />
someday, not far from now <br />
i will keep another frog, feed it to grow <br />
this time i will do it differently <br />
but that sounds like the same promise i made last time. </div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-78352706411275213302011-02-07T00:38:00.001+05:302011-02-07T01:00:30.243+05:30you and me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">i can be sneaky when i want to be, <br />
go into the hidden crevices to find <br />
what you have been doing with yourself<br />
who you've been seeing and talking to<br />
and, even though i know it so <br />
that you don't love me no more <br />
i can't help but feel envious of the girl<br />
you seem to so openly be crushing on<br />
<br />
its been all of ten days since the split <br />
you seem on your way out from recovery too <br />
while i'm still stuck here in pre-op<br />
moaning and feeling handicapped <br />
in my wheelchair where you left me<br />
wounded, bruised, beyond repair<br />
<br />
that's what everyone always says <br />
when they break from someone, something <br />
you'll be fine too, you will <br />
your life will go on and <br />
you will wake up, and face the sunrise <br />
<br />
i agree<br />
and soon, i will <br />
<br />
but for now <br />
can I just walk the street that i've walked since birth<br />
as if i've never been there before <br />
can i shut out everyone and everything <br />
and not be judged and thought of as weak<br />
can i please imagine that it'd be easier <br />
to have been hit by a car coming from behind me <br />
and my blood splattered all across its wind-shield <br />
than to have had my heart broken by you, <br />
you who loved me so, <br />
who's life i was <br />
who was so lucky to have found someone like me <br />
who was a better man because of me. </div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-40236630225822140152011-01-14T13:16:00.000+05:302011-01-14T13:16:06.451+05:30the eyei saw my grandmother one day <br />
she's been dead some 20 years<br />
so her body was rotting <br />
but her eyes were intact<br />
i was in a train that passed by her<br />
with a boy i'd only just met <br />
guess she remembered me still <br />
even though she was dead and everything<br />
so her eye popped out of its socket<br />
it was a very sunny winter day<br />
the eye moved fast <br />
and caught up with the train <br />
it boarded the same way I had <br />
and it passed by me <br />
like it was a complete stranger <br />
then it came back <br />
and passed by once again <br />
i think it was watery this time<br />
<br />
it de-boarded the train where I did <br />
it walked along me out of the station <br />
as we looked for a taxi <br />
it kept a watch on my luggage <br />
as I entered the taxi, it entered too <br />
<br />
the taxi moved up to the hills <br />
and the boy held my hand<br />
for the very first time<br />
he kissed it too <br />
the eye looked away<br />
gazing into the distance<br />
it looked at the valley <br />
we'd oft frequented <br />
when i was a child <br />
and my grandmother was alive <br />
the boy let go of my hand<br />
and the eye looked at me <br />
it seemed to want to say something<br />
something i couldn't understand <br />
how could i? <br />
i'd only known her/ it as a child <br />
i didn't know how to read it<br />
if only it could speak <br />
speak my language<br />
<br />
when we entered our room<br />
the eye entered too <br />
how sneaky it was <br />
<br />
the boy closed the blinds <br />
and began to kiss me <br />
the eye watered and left<br />
<br />
after we were done<br />
the boy and i <br />
i looked for the eye, frantically <br />
the boy looked worried <br />
i said i'd lost something, important<br />
but wouldn't let him search with me <br />
<br />
i never saw the eye again <br />
ever.sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-72203124854164093362011-01-05T18:41:00.002+05:302011-01-05T18:41:39.794+05:30The SunIt took exceptionally long to appear today <br />
but when it finally did, it was strong and mighty<br />
it seemed to say 'no one dare flout my will today' <br />
<br />
I lay there in the open <br />
waiting <br />
as the wind played gently with my open hair <br />
I lay there <br />
for what seemed like an eternity <br />
and when it appeared, it found me, immediately<br />
<br />
It shone on me with all its might <br />
It read my heart <br />
that today, I'll let the sun think that my body and soul are its canvases <br />
<br />
It began slowly <br />
to devour me<br />
and when the crescendo built <br />
it burnt its way through to my heart <br />
and something got released<br />
something beautiful <br />
something more brightly coloured than the deepest secrets of the sea<br />
<br />
This thing - beautiful - it began to flow<br />
from my heart into the sky <br />
my sun's sky<br />
there it flew without a care<br />
the sun beaming, the wind dancing in its wake <br />
then it looked down <br />
at me, where I lay <br />
and all around chimes began to play.sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-86781792341951615412010-12-25T22:44:00.001+05:302010-12-25T22:44:55.711+05:30What is this?This continuum of thoughts, of you, of you and me<br />
The lack of equilibrium, the lack of sanity<br />
Unsettled, unnerved by every little abandonment <br />
Frenzied by thought of a look, of a touch<br />
<br />
Explain this enchantment to me <br />
Tell me how a stranger it has been<br />
Fear, my best friend with benefits <br />
Tells me to shake it off, to not believe<br />
<br />
And all this because they asked me about writing <br />
I talked of places it takes me, places beautiful<br />
And somewhere amidst those places deep within <br />
I chanced upon a sapling growing, of you, of you and me<br />
<br />
Now that I have it, I know where it dwells <br />
What do I do with it, what do I call it? <br />
You seem to have answers to so many things, <br />
that I can't help but look to you to help give it a name…sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-62427606603756096402010-12-06T14:08:00.001+05:302010-12-06T14:09:04.657+05:30This Time<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Each time I say 'this time'<br />
But this time it'll truly be <br />
No matter it does last or not <br />
I will cherish it, for eternity <br />
<br />
This time is like Summer Rain<br />
For an ageing and weary me <br />
But who can remain unaffected<br />
By the ever enchanting Summer Rain<br />
<br />
This time, I'm giving in <br />
Uncareful, unanything<br />
I'm speaking up, going under your skin<br />
I'm pushing myself or are you pushing me?<br />
<br />
I do not know, nor I care <br />
I just know that I mustn't let go<br />
I'll hold on, I'll understand<br />
I'll make amends, take and keep this chance<br />
<br />
This time I will dance<br />
Under the influence of you and me <br />
This time, I will write on blank paper<br />
Like never before, once again <br />
<br />
<br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-77918021166229695612010-11-22T20:38:00.002+05:302010-11-22T20:38:46.210+05:30expend<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Every little devastation matters, every tear means something. <br />
In the larger scheme of the universe, somewhere far away, <br />
Its all adding up to a giant mountain of grief, <br />
And all you can do is -- try to run away from it. <br />
<br />
<br />
'You are someone to be loved', they say to you. <br />
But they don't finish the sentence... it ends with <br />
'...Just like everyone else' <br />
You are not special, <br />
No one is, <br />
You are not extraordinary, <br />
Why, you're not the first person on this planet. <br />
<br />
Angry words make poetry! <br />
Maybe they do, maybe they don't, <br />
They're just words, <br />
They shouldn't be taken so seriously. <br />
<br />
He looks magnetic, <br />
Like the first ray of the sun - its called 'Arush' in Hindi, someone by that name has told me. <br />
Back to him - he is the most beautiful colour of skin, <br />
The colour you cannot help but love, <br />
He is the most beautiful thing you can ever imagine, <br />
He is the saviour, <br />
He will heal, <br />
And, if he doesn't, <br />
Then there will be no saving you or this 'meshugah' soul of yours! <br />
<br />
There's darkness in him, <br />
there's darkness all around him, <br />
that attracts you, draws you in. <br />
You don't want to take care of him, <br />
you've had enough of that in your life. <br />
If that's the case then why are you drawn to his darkness,<br />
it will only destroy you - slowly but surely, <br />
it will creep into your heart and make your blood run cold... <br />
Until you stop breathing. <br />
<br />
She paints, <br />
she's angelic, <br />
she is an old soul - a wise soul, <br />
but she doesn't draw you in. <br />
You just want to watch her from a distance. <br />
Why?<br />
Why don't you want to be a part of her? <br />
Why don't you want her to be a part of you? <br />
<br />
<br />
He is a snake. <br />
You were at peace without him, <br />
but the mountain of grief wouldn't have it. <br />
So, it sent him your way. <br />
He now lives in your heart, <br />
and he talks about himself all the time. <br />
He thinks you need him and <br />
he needs you, <br />
when the truth is--you don't need each other. <br />
Why can't you just leave. <br />
<br />
Its like molten lava inside this body, <br />
It flows through your veins, <br />
and its trigger is a fickle whore. <br />
She opens her legs for just about anyone, <br />
and there you are - caught unawares. <br />
If only you could find a way to expend this lava, <br />
it would set you free. <br />
All these diseases that you have, <br />
from not being able to express yourself creatively, <br />
they would all be gone--once the lava is expended... <br />
whilst the lava is being expended. <br />
<br />
You say whilst when you're talking, <br />
when you're typing in your "right mind" --<br />
you say while when you're typing with your<br />
"unright mind"<br />
<br />
<br />
</span></div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-17356977367435681832010-11-10T00:13:00.004+05:302010-11-10T00:15:54.050+05:30You are my Faith<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Today I saw ‘My Sister’s Keeper’ </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I remember it was just last year that I was travelling in that plane, having spent my summer with you—I was headed away from you. You thought I’d made this big sacrifice and not travelled too far away from you for too long. I wish that were true. I hadn’t done it for various other reasons, which makes me think less of myself. Will I ever correct you on that and remind you of the real reasons why I didn’t move? Perhaps not! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I did however, fly away for a little while—me with my uncomplicated queer eye, I flew away from you and the rest of my life; perhaps it was justified. I can’t tell now. Back then it felt like I did need the break. From what, I don’t know. I hadn’t done anything. I’d just spent time with you. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, as I sat in that plane I looked at the list of films that were playing on the small foggy TV screen in front of me. On that list was this film. I had no idea what the film was about. I had no idea until tonight. I find that strange. I usually know such things. How did I not know this? And yet, I was attracted towards the film. I’ve wanted to see it since the time it was released… and, I never bothered to find out what the film was about. It’s unbelievable. Maybe I am over-thinking it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I ate my hideous airplane pre-dawn meal, and washed it down with a couple of mini bottles of red wine. I was warm and all set to watch the film(s). I’d never really slept through journeys before. That night I slept through the whole thing and woke up in the morning, in time to hop on to the next plane. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Tonight I go back and forth that night in the plane. What would have happened if I’d seen the film? I might sound overtly dramatic here, but things might have turned out differently. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I think of all those lovely emails you sent me; the beautiful messages, the tear-filled conversations. You poured. I swept them under the rug. You tried to purge. I concealed. I’d like to purge but you know that’s not me. It’s not ok to cry in front of people. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I wish I could’ve done more. I see all this and I wish I could bring you more smiles. I wish this were the one thing in my life wherein I strived harder… somehow. Its in the past now though, and everything is all right. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I guess at moments like these, I understand faith—yours, then and now; mine—then. For now, I don’t need faith—I have you. My faith is in my phone that still rings at 11:30 in the night, and you’re calling. </span></div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-40504775384103934742010-10-30T01:22:00.002+05:302010-11-22T20:41:31.108+05:30This could be the end...<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">This scent – it takes me back to you and me </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">So quick; I’m overcome</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I convulse</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">At the very thought of your warm, dark skin</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Its not a fashionable scent this one </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">It’s a very comfortable, lived-in one</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">It’s the smell of you every day that I knew you </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Every day that I thought would be the rest of our lives </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">This morning you walked into my dream uninvited </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">You were the same you, yet somehow different</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">You spoke about the new ‘her’ in your life</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">And I couldn’t take my mind off your promises </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Of there being no other—besides me…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Music almost always accompanies this scent</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">A lovely, soulful riff </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Just like you</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">This time around, somewhere in the background, someone is singing—‘This could be the end’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">And I am surprised</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">For I wish it is—the end</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I wish you’d leave </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I wish you wouldn’t live in this scent anymore </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I wish you hadn’t grown tired of me</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I wish you weren’t so indiscreet </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I wish for so much </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">That sometimes I wish I didn’t know how to wish… </span></div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-37581973276721813852010-10-30T00:23:00.002+05:302010-11-22T20:42:02.010+05:30Accidentals<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Somewhere deep inside my heart </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Lies a fraction</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">That only lights when it hears an accidental </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">It glows in the warmth of all the strange notes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">In all sorts of songs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Songs about love</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">And loss</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">And all that jazz</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Songs about beginnings </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">And ends </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">And all the messy parts in between </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I wish this fraction</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Would put together all of these accidentals</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Into a set </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">That my heart would play on repeat </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">For ever and ever </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">So I’d never have to listen to anything less beautiful </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Anything less…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">And so, I could live like this forever</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Forever numb, forever cold… </span></div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-9618936282289825182010-10-27T00:06:00.000+05:302010-10-27T00:06:28.898+05:30You!<span style="font-size: small;"></span><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You, <br />
With your deep, deep eyes <br />
And your childish smile<br />
You make me laugh the warmest laugh <br />
Each time you touch my heart <br />
<br />
And you <br />
With your wild, wild ways <br />
You have got me ensnared <br />
You make me smile the biggest smile <br />
From somewhere deep inside<br />
<br />
And you <br />
I didn't think it would be this simple <br />
I never could have dreamt of all of this <br />
And now that I have it all, within reach <br />
I worry that it might go... away <br />
<br />
</span></div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-39504693337080206022010-10-25T00:03:00.000+05:302010-10-25T00:03:04.883+05:30Numb<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKGrq0FAI6CGXt4c5XkPEi1uQNJMowdK2EAu120ybDRaTZlqEQmBDmOxMmOIY1WC33XgZ1yfJbqQRNZPZzAaJH8d6b0RqriIrPZWUcT3Yw8vztoGFasbzgk_LIcsYXwKlgdY/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKGrq0FAI6CGXt4c5XkPEi1uQNJMowdK2EAu120ybDRaTZlqEQmBDmOxMmOIY1WC33XgZ1yfJbqQRNZPZzAaJH8d6b0RqriIrPZWUcT3Yw8vztoGFasbzgk_LIcsYXwKlgdY/s1600/1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I want to force myself to write, </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I am too pacified,</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> too content, </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">with my existence, </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and with yours. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Nothing bothers me, </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">irks me into the frenzied dependence on my pen as an intoxicant</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Nothing forces me into taking refuge in the pages of some words, some story. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I want to, I need to, I would like to be able to...</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Can this be real? Could I be too numb to write? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I am too numb.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For after deep turmoil comes numbness! </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Or does it? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I cannot tell. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Can you? Tell me? How to get out of this, out of here, where I am, stuck, it seems, for an excruciating eternity? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Maybe if I hurt myself, if I thought about bad things, I would be driven into that frenzy, like actors are. Don't they go to a bad time in life to be able to cry? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I could do that. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It wouldn't be tough! </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Wouldn't it? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I cannot tell. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sitting here, unmoved, un-anything. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They say you should just start, start writing, anything, everything, just make a move at least.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">That sounds fair enough. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Or does it?</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I cannot tell. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But it doesn't hurt to try... </div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-72582069721876407172010-10-10T12:18:00.006+05:302010-10-10T12:22:24.588+05:30God resides within Me...<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it” – Rumi<br />
<br />
Be it love for a soul-mate or love for God, for I seek both, this makes sense to me… Fortunately, I sometimes forget about my search for a soul-mate… helps me live for myself and also not make any mistakes anymore, for this time around, I am not settling for anything less. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
I’ve been searching for God for sometime now. Without looking for him at home, I’ve given up the search here. That’s probably because everything in my life tells me that he (will call him ‘he’ for convenience’ sake) is not here, if ‘here’ is where I live. He isn’t here because here statues are worshipped, and adorned, and blindly given one’s everything to whilst the beggar on the street dies on a cold, winter morning, not too far from one’s house. Here is where your people killed people who believe in another version of God – may be a bearded one or a turbaned one. God does not live where humans kill each other in his name. For all that he might or might not be; he isn’t someone who can allow such a thing. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
So, when I went to a place where they believed in peace because their god strongly recommended it, I was tempted to join them… and follow their god. Then I found out that that would need for me to read a whole lot of literature and scriptures… and my heart didn’t urge me to make that effort. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
I then came back to our gods, here, where I live. Someone close to my heart was going through a period of fire. That someone didn’t find it hard to find God; so, I followed in their footsteps and tried to find God in my rosary beads, in my bedtime prayers, in my chants, and my pleading, my tears… all for that someone to not be made to suffer. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Did I find God? No. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
I still can’t understand that time. How did I manage to, for that period of time, believe and pray? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Today, I find around me, answers like… God resides within me, as myself… God resides in my heart… Whatever you do, don’t break someone’s heart because God resides in every person’s heart… </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
I think I will continue to look for him, for an ethereal support system but until that time… I can live with this - God resides within me, as myself! <br />
<br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-24603904057108484232010-10-07T21:49:00.000+05:302010-10-07T21:49:47.465+05:30The Joys of Being Woman Friday at a Travel Cafe<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My friend Aeshna Roy has recently started a fantastic blog - content to design, all great; and it ought to be, considering she is an editor and chief designer at a leading publishing house. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">She has decided to dedicate a part of this virtual space to people who have really interesting jobs and ergo enjoy their work. The first interview that she's done is with none other than yours truly. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It goes something like this: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span">There are just so many interesting and downright awesome things people do from 9 to 5. I love meeting people who do exciting, different things as part of their work and really enjoy what they do. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">One such person is Shruti Sharma, the self-proclaimed 'Woman Friday' at the</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Kunzum Travel Cafe</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">in Hauz Khas. She manages the media presence and develops online content for</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="http://kunzum.com/travelcafe/">Kunzum</a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">, and also helps out (read sits around, chats with guests and drinks coffee) at their hugely popular cafe. Kunzum encourages people to visit, have coffee (you pay what you like for your coffee/tea/cookie!), share travel stories, pick up travel tips from other travelers and generally unwind. Shruti is also a voice-over artist when she's not (wo)manning the ship at Kunzum. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Read <a href="http://aeshnaroy.blogspot.com/2010/10/joys-of-being-woman-friday-at-travel.html">more here</a>...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I would like to take this opportunity to thank Aeshna; I'm honoured to be the first one to have been featured in this unique space. </span>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-33890385590114400262010-10-05T22:49:00.004+05:302010-10-05T22:50:22.524+05:30Unicornucopia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_quIRIDbfoSc/TKtdFyNwTEI/AAAAAAAABDg/UcVmpR1zjM4/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_quIRIDbfoSc/TKtdFyNwTEI/AAAAAAAABDg/UcVmpR1zjM4/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><meta content="" name="Title"></meta> <meta content="" name="Keywords"></meta> <meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta> <meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta> <meta content="Microsoft Word 2008" name="Generator"></meta> <meta content="Microsoft Word 2008" name="Originator"></meta> <link href="file://localhost/Users/Shruti/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link> <style>
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I just can’t get enough of ‘love’. Every morning, some say, I wake up with a smile; I know I wake up wondering (with a smile), how many are going to love me that day and how much are they going to love me—that is my elixir! Shouldn’t that be the case with everyone? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes we forget; I do too—we forget, what a few loving words can do, what wonders, what miracles… I wish I’d never say anything unloving to anyone; but I do, many times. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes I wish I could live at the airport, and every minute of every day of every week of every month of every year, my people would come and meet me, on repeat, with gargantuan love, and never tire of doing so. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes I wish I had six pairs of limbs, a much bigger mind and an even bigger heart, so I could do everything that everyone wants me to do for them, not seek anything in return, and seal the deal with a big, massive hug. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t tire of songs like ‘Happiness’ and ‘Don’t worry, be happy’, and listen to them on repeat all my life. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes I wish that Rajkumar, the mongrel who lives on my street and whom I love dearly had a horn on its head, and could fly. Then again, he is equally amazing without all of that. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes I wish I could imprint on every person I ever met. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes I wish for my son to have been born at the same time as me; I wish we could grow up together. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes I wish for a whole lot of things that cannot come true… but its all right. <br />
<br />
<br />
*Reference: ‘Twilight Series’; Imprinting is the involuntary mechanism by which shapeshifters find their soul-mates.<br />
<br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-251460457852505832010-08-25T12:30:00.001+05:302010-08-25T13:33:19.435+05:30Salto, Jump<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">No one seemed to know the street my hostel was supposed to be on. So, I kept walking along the edge of the mountain and along the edge of the water, looking for signage. When I reached the end of the town, I saw it, written in bold orange letters ‘Jump’—that was the name of the hostel. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I walked into the reception area and this beautiful girl called Sol sat there. She had the warmest smile and her dark skin glowed under the sunlight that fell through the window. As she was greeting me, a man walked into the reception. He stared at me, smiled, and said ‘Hola’. ‘Hola’ I said, and looked away, feeling very nervous. His helper who was close behind him asked him, ‘quién es ella, who is she’. The laundry man shrugged and said ‘Alguna guapa, some pretty girl’! Sol looked at me and smiled. Something like this had never happened to me before. I felt more nervous. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When she was done with the laundry man, she walked me to my dormitory that was called ‘Blue Light’. The ceiling glistened like the most beautiful lake under the spell of a warm winter sun. Suddenly I didn’t feel nervous anymore. I settled in, unpacked, and then went out to look for some food. After eating, I went back to the hostel and sat in the common room, looking out onto the sea. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Soon, night fell and the empty common room starting filling up. There was something about these people—they all seemed to be buzzing with nervous energy. I waited patiently. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As the clock struck nine and the sky turned completely dark, Eduardo walked in. ‘Hola Amigos’ he said. ‘Hola’ everyone chorused. Eduardo was dressed in a diving suit, zipped only till his waist. He zipped it up fully and said, ‘Vamos’. The word whipped the crowd into a frenzy and before I could understand what was going on, they were dressed and out into the balcony. I followed them and saw the last of them walk down the steps, into the water and then swim to a spot a few hundred meters from the hostel… the spot was lit—blue. ‘Sólo tienes que seguir la luz azul, Just follow the blue light’ I heard Eduardo shout to no one in particular. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sol came running into the balcony wearing a diving suit, smiled and winked at me, and then swam away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When they were all in the blue light, Eduardo shouted, ‘Ahora’ and everyone dipped into the water for a few seconds and then jumped… into the air. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I went back inside, found a diving suit in the utilities room, threw it on quickly and ran out. As soon as I started swimming, a hand came and grabbed mine. ‘Vamos a la luz azul, Let’s go to the blue light’ said Eduardo, his eyes the same colour as the light. I smiled. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When we reached the blue light, I began to feel completely weightless. Eduardo put his hands on my waist and pulled me into the water. I looked around… enchanted apparitions played the most beautiful violin pieces to the world of the dead, which looked like a big, happy park in the throes of a mild, windy summer. Only instead of green grass, there was the blue light. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">‘Salto, Jump’ said Eduardo, tugging on my hand. We threw ourselves into the air, without much effort… and then we flew. </span>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-10627949475654486642010-08-07T20:27:00.001+05:302010-08-07T20:30:21.768+05:30This Dance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcEd_3MtfUF9JiJ8lhPO_zcyN4rfidmIKpFM8I6t1bkCkGcpB7eMkOWCrcIuzzcGIqHXw3rj0gtO7kwU_3U1Z9BZtgT-CpX2DeiF-m_zn0d5uXzaZo9vAkv9t3BumFor_mc9s/s1600/this+dance+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcEd_3MtfUF9JiJ8lhPO_zcyN4rfidmIKpFM8I6t1bkCkGcpB7eMkOWCrcIuzzcGIqHXw3rj0gtO7kwU_3U1Z9BZtgT-CpX2DeiF-m_zn0d5uXzaZo9vAkv9t3BumFor_mc9s/s400/this+dance+small.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">This Dance </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Stranger </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Is for you</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Your symphony, my ecstasy</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Since that day in the rain</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">I can taste this dance</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Can you?</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Will you care if I made you the father, the maker </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Of this thing that I can taste in my mouth, my being</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">My blood flows—to this dance</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">I’m writing this down on blank paper</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Like never before</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">No words, no lines</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Just you and me </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">And this dance</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Do you care?</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Your image</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Puts me in a trance</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">And I ascend </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Like I’m possessed</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">There’s a demon </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">In me, of you</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">And I hang</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">By a thread </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">For I don’t know if you like this dance</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Its cabaret, its contra-dance</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Its sensual, its personal</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Listen to my beating heart</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">It swollen and overfull </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">And it’s moving only and only </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">To the beat of this dance </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Can this be true?</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">I can smell you</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Your eyes</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">They’re innervating me, drugging me </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">With the thrill, the rapture</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Of this dance</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Will you dance with me? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com17Europe55.178867663281984 -3.51562529.436178663281986 -63.28125 80.92155666328199 56.25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-91560727101489722362010-07-13T18:03:00.001+05:302010-07-13T18:03:58.418+05:30Oh, she's only 17!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrGWWhVhG16df_gL5hmK9S3-Nu6bSwFbJAB6D8knXxPVDAr_-hOJ8qQTtJLP2X86xbdORltKs-fNlXyoDZj-IFeAQrpw2zhC1UB3JoasthcHcD8Q_am931QG5YIEqOllmEYY/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrGWWhVhG16df_gL5hmK9S3-Nu6bSwFbJAB6D8knXxPVDAr_-hOJ8qQTtJLP2X86xbdORltKs-fNlXyoDZj-IFeAQrpw2zhC1UB3JoasthcHcD8Q_am931QG5YIEqOllmEYY/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I had posted this photo somewhere else a little while back. At that point of time I was listening to the Kings of Leon album 'Only by the Night' on repeat... and for some reason when it came to naming the photo I could only think of 'Oh, she's only 17' from the track '17' on the album.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Someone did question the name and said, 'Why, why, why?' and I kept thinking 'why can't you leave the poor title alone'.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Newho, if you can come up with another title for the picture, I'd be happy to hear it ;)</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970457.post-91349663028664760662010-07-01T18:33:00.002+05:302010-07-13T18:04:43.155+05:30an ode ... or not !<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_97pnXV4XNgWU-xrXb2zjQ-cMiasDjDFaPlVOZdhOOgt8TkS_QE01xx7p360ruoz9UCU6ccA291YH0JvgU9lImB8-CB2n_h17nhrTSYREqK7x1oIwPqbB4BUsmXBRSoQgYI/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_97pnXV4XNgWU-xrXb2zjQ-cMiasDjDFaPlVOZdhOOgt8TkS_QE01xx7p360ruoz9UCU6ccA291YH0JvgU9lImB8-CB2n_h17nhrTSYREqK7x1oIwPqbB4BUsmXBRSoQgYI/s400/5.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">here's an ode</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to some good weather</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to this unproductive stage</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to the numbness</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to the things that don't scare me, when they should</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to other things that scare me, when they shouldn't</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to love</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to laughter</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to pain</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to desire</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to waiting in vain</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">to all that jazz</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">and everything else under the sun</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">come back... </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>sacredeastwindhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07157247602493252129noreply@blogger.com7