WE ARE ‘ME’ AND WE ARE ‘WE’.

We are ‘me’ and we are ‘we’. I don’t look at you yet I know you are an inseparable element, like we were, like we are, like we will be. I know you are my precinct, a sanctorum distinct.

We have been in this communion for so long that I understand your silence and you follow my provenance. I know where to go in times, when I feel oblong, and thus jaded and lost, and you take me in, within your lines.

We know what colours we wear and we consciously try everything else to bear. We have remained together in life’s summers and winters, we have sailed through the waters of its rainy days, and we have relished on its fruits of spring.

We are ‘me’ and we are ‘we’. You give me a shape and I am your escape, skinned into togetherness of us. I know you are my limit and you know I love to go beyond this limit.

Contemplation & The Reflex

WE ARE ‘ME’ AND WE ARE ‘WE’.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

TRANSCENDING ON SPRING OF OUR SILENCE

When I had seen that in your hands
Just my type was the expression
Breaking the mutual silence between us
That we had so wanted to preserve
Like the purity of words of our promises
Like the sanity of the first time
Like the wisdom folded in your hands
The silence that let us be ourselves
We did speak within the those confines
With the tenderness of your feelings
Singing along in the harmony of souls
The object in your hands was within me
And I loved the way you reciprocated then
Felt like the elusive rain in that summer
Transcending on spring of our silence
I had never thought – if it could be
The worlds within us didn’t need so
But we lived the moment as we would

Life n Its Offshoots-2

TRANSCENDING ON SPRING OF OUR SILENCE

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

SITTING SILENT, HE WOULD TRY TO LOOK INSIDE HIM TO UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF HIS SILENCE

He used to sit there, at those steps. It was his daily routine, for years. He didn’t remember when it was the last time he violated his routine.

He had not taken any vow. He was never deeply religious.

Often, he did not look at God as he was looking at God.

Yes, he questioned God, but turned back to Him, as well.

Yes, he used to come there, to sit there. Coming there had become like a part of his daily life. He was so deeply into it that he consciously avoided going anywhere that could have taken him away from this routine.

He would come there. Sitting silent, he would try to look inside him to understand the meaning of his silence. And the silence would respond. It happened regularly.

There was an increasing understanding with silence. And the flow helped him.

Sitting with his ‘self’, he would talk to his silence.

Sitting with his silence, he would travel with music of the flow.

It was a detached attachment. He had no thought when he started this one fine day, with a random decision.

The flow had many – sitting by its ghat-steps, waiting for its caring embrace and soul soothing music, and it cared for everyone.

The flow did not expect anything in return and whatever he wished while being there, at the steps, was nothing more than detached expectations.

He needed and he tried to feel something more powerful, than a human-God relation.

And having detached attachment with detached expectations showed him the way further.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

HE WAS NOT ABLE TO TALK TO THE ABSENCE IN HIM TODAY

He was not able to read the Absence in him, an Absence the paradigms of which were so familiar to him.

He loved to read and read regularly the writing of his life experiences, their liveliness and the void of their silent moments.

But something was amiss this time.

Also, the want of the ‘Absence’ was shadowing all other that was present.

Though, he still loved to read the life, he was not in communion with his soul to read the Absence today, because he was not able to personify his thoughts.

They were running together. They were not talking.

They were walking together. They were still not talking but their steps were in unspoken unison.

They were trying to read each other. The silent space between them was uniting their thoughts to converse, giving them the opportunity.

Yet, he was not able to read the Absence in him this time. He was not able to personify the Absence in him this time.

He was not able to experience this experience though he knew he had to read it, to make sense of all other that was present.

There was no other way but to come back to it, to try again, to talk to the silence of the Absence, to sit across its personification, to read the life, to make sense of the passage to the time again.

Life is about living it regularly.

Living is about reading the life consistently, in fusion with its liveliness, in harmony with its silence.

A life’s identity is about existing in its fulsomeness. It is about inhabiting its voids.

He was not able to make sense of everything else in the life today. He was not able to talk to the Absence in him today.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

MAYBE, YOUR SILENCE STILL SPEAKS TO ME..

The words and the soul they had

Still sound so meaningful to me

 Cannot say why I read them still

Again and again, wishing for more

 Words that push the lost person in me

To be found, to become soulful again

 The words and the soul they had

Given a life by your presence

 Words, now personified by your absence

Cannot say why but they stayed

 Maybe, to be with my loneliness

To heal, when I seek nothing but you

Cannot say why I still care for you

Maybe, your silence still speaks to me

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/