turbulent river

It is a song, a poetry of order in absurd. An acceptance of absurd or rather decline of order. A process of letting go. I am listening to a song called “time flies” of a band called “porcupine tree”. I feel a turbulent river inside me. These are some of the drops………….

So much dynamic..my heart will burst out. World is sending so much signals so much moods so much vibrancy so much life ! heart and brain are just jumping with joy to grasp. People so many people so many flavours so many colours so many ways to live so many ways to perceive so many ways to block so many ways to receive . life is never a dead accident for me, never. It Is a festival. It is never a consequence for me, it is a cause. Everything around with seemingly no life in it is also indicating some vibrancy in it that it is also jumping and dancing with some purpose and joy. Nothing seemingly is in order here, but it is my limitation I know. Dancing helps, feels like in tune with all this universal dancing. Smiles, cries, all the emotions are vibrant. My hands currently are trying to just run randomly on this keyboard maintaining an order ungraspable to me. Just randomly creating some sentences which doesn’t make sense, or does it? It just doesn’t want to stop. Why would it stop? Why would it want to stop? What will happen if it will just keep on dancing? Let it. making sense doesn’t always make sense. Making sense tries to grasp something which is out of scope and out of human order. So why wouldn’t I just let my fingers dance? Let it find its order or no order. Making sense doesn’t matter. Dancing matters. Gazing everything that surrounds us without creating any meaning out of it. let the rhythm slow down. Let it not stop. Let it slow down. Slowing down doesn’t mean it is stopped. It is getting deeper and deeper. It is making everything beautiful. It is making us stop for a moment until..the drum is struck again to pick up the rhythm a bit faster. Now it is again running, dancing. Now it is giving some heroic beauty to it. let it all be danced by me. Let it all be felt by me. Stopping is a crime. Flowing is the main rule. Let go let flow. It has now yet again slowed down, trying to pick up again. Picked up. Beauty, fashion, feel good. TIME FLIES. Let it be caught, let it be caught in bits, slowly and then again swiftly. But maintaining the rhythm. It is flowing. My mind is sliding on from the insight to the written which is not expected of me. Let the insight write. Vibrancy, let be felt. The dance let be felt. The life let be felt. It is like an opium. It is intoxicating. It is not letting me get out of it. getting out of it makes me dizzy. I don’t want to feel dizzy. I m stuck in between what I m writing and what I m feeling . let it be solely about what  I am feeling. Let the pages be torn apart by the dance and not even realized by me. Dancing on the pages is the sole purpose. Try to fly. Let us fly. Let me get everything in my own hands. Let me catch. Would anything slip? How would I know. I don’t know. Questions shouldn’t indicate worry. Should, shouldn’t would, wouldn’tdance !!! it has always been some scheme to bind. Let letting go be the scheme now. Let just bursting out be the scheme now. Don’t find any meaning in it cause it isn’t supposed to be meaningful. Flow……… let flow…….let it all be with you. Collect. Then throw away. Throw it so long that no part again will try n make sense. No part should make sense. Let everything be so absurd. Absurdity be the sole aim. Absurd. Let it fly. Never collect. Never ever try to collect. Let them fly…Hail rock music !!


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