Gray Pieces Of Memory

Gray Pieces of Memory

1 May be days, months, or even years, I am sitting on the shore waiting for the waves to bring the moonlight. I doubt the moon would ever greet me. I doubt the waves would know where the moonlight is. In exile, the wind never blows. The waves, heavy and slow, only bring the dark memory of the deep.

2 The gulls, singing the old song, collecting the words I have long thrown out of the window. Two boats, tied together, the men in dream.

The fish have migrated to the other side of sunlight. Darkness shall last. The men are waiting in vain. The gulls are collecting my words, putting them together like a chain of beads. But it can not be a song and hardly a poem. The gulls are singing the old song. There is no choice.

3 Dawn, flies over the field of lilies. In the silence of the grass life plays a game with the poppies. Sitting with the memories of grass, flowers teach me the virtue of silence. Wondering, how do the flowers talk to each other. Behind the wall, there is the smell of jasmine. The birds wash their wings in the smell. Lilies dream of moonlight. I dream of the day that was not there.

4 In vain, I shout. This wind which blows, east to west, brings but the poisonous air, injecting in my lungs. Like a dead fish still 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 more into 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.

5 It is the day of sacrifice. The owl, on this broken mud wall singing the song from dusk to dawn, from the beginning of man to the end of skeleton. From the day of my birth, to the day I 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 footsteps on the sand.

6 I walk in my dream,

lost in the mist. No sunset, no sunrise. No dusk, no dawn. There is a bridge between 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 dream from time to time.

7 Somewhere, in the depth of the valley, the first green greets the spring. Somewhere, in the middle of street, a window opens to the sunlight. Somewhere, by the door lips smile at a stranger. Somewhere, a window stays closed.

There is dust on glasses. Somewhere, a fresh grave is opened. There, smile is buried for ever. I carry the pain of all the dried fields, to eternity.

8 While napping , I wake with the attack of colors. I open the window of thought and strangers, red, blue, green, and yellow fly in. They sit, each one, on corner of papers. In the space of nothingness I begin life with 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

in the waste basket.

9 I wonder if I have been dwelling in 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 eyes bring me the night. I live on earth, you are the moon. I am the leaf, you are the blossom. Sing back to the bird which is singing for you. You have landed in my thought. Believe in faith, the faith in the white line between us. There is always the flight of thought. Eternity is not far away.

10 The cloud carries 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 memory in the rain. I breath the wet song. The memory never dies. Spring brings the smell of love, which flew with us over the gardens of eternity.

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

Water plays the mirror, your reflection is dancing with the wind. And, the music and the songs presented by the nightingales. The birds and the trees invite you to their reception with pure water of pond and the apples, cherries, and the songs. Flight of the birds the wind, the songs and lines of colors in the air follows your dream, flying with my memory.

12 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.

13 There is the sea and the rock. There are the waves and 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 rock and the sea, and you rising with the sun in the mornings.

14 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.

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 footsteps on 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 smoke of the burning shrubs.

16 Like a snake I crawl in this land of mud and grass. It is sunset or sunrise,

I do not know. In this hallucination, when it is the end of sky and stars, I understand, I feel, I am in this dark and wet tunnel. Hot drops of melting stone burning my skin. I think, it is my blood. but in this darkness, I can only imagine. I cry, and my tears burn my face.

17 To think, is the only pleasure of life left for me. From the far away summer, I smell the grass. Roses are dancing under the rain. I began to sing but can not hear my voice. Behind the rainbow, you are bright as a goddess. You are smiling, and from your hand the rain falls.

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

18 Words falling falling down, free falling, like drops of water of 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

up again.

19 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 dampness from 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.

20 I am a hostage of 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 island of the bewitched man, in silence and endless nightmare.

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

into my life. All I have is 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.

22 A promise for tomorrow, was a reality yesterday. And today which promise shall bring happiness. Life changes skin, hopelessness. And despairing flies in from the window, with few dried and brown burned leaves. Wretchedness simply walks in. I need a song. May be next spring the birds shall bring it

with the first breeze of love.

23 You have stolen my dreams, in the early spring when dream is the only remedy mirage, mirage in fog. And the last flower flies away to sunset. You have taken my last tears. So, from summer to the next summer I have to wait for a dream. In this sultry land on which I travel, no grass grows. The birds have taken their dream to the far away grassland. So, in this heartless wasteland, I can only dream of rain and forest. You have stolen my dreams.

24 I am looking for words in this land of trade which even conscious, life, intention, apprehension is for sale. and, realization of thought, not even thought, can bring the chain and 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 light has long been forgotten. Have doubt of the message the ravens bring you. The night can bring but darkness.

25 You are singing in my ear, a lullaby, like a secret murmur. You walk in my heart, climbing every steps to my memory. We set together with the sun in the horizon. I open the window to realization. You are calling me to escape, to run to freedom. But the message is vague. You rise in me as the moon. You fly in my heart like a breeze. And you murmur; this is not love hanging from you neck, but an animosity endured in your loneliness “. You have the poison of disgust in your hand. Do not let it touch your lips. Turn and look at the sunrise on the sea.

26 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.

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

27 Dream flies, like a gull, a seagull on the waves and with the wind. You are the sea. Wings converge your smell. Tonight the moon is 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.

28 Days and days without you. Days and days in fog. You can not be seen, and I am left only with memories and words. To day, without you, I lost myself in the fog. Without you, without me, we are lost in the fog. These bitter days these resentful days, these dead moments. Even the memories are bitter. The waves are tired. Sea drinks them back In this lost graveyard of lost cause, though I endured. I lost me, I lost you, I lost the essence of life.

29 In anxiety, distressful, I am walking in my soul. Of hesitation and apprehension, I decayed. Repeating you in me, I am hallucinating. With fingers and fingernails, I am carving your memory on the wall.

30 You rap your soul in your arms; in a cover of caution, expectation, and love. An armful of brush with a secret of colorful memory, you arm yourself and your wounded soul. Wind is blowing in the leaves of my curtain. Poetry screaming, fire dancing, wind blowing the sand in the desert. Sea gives birth to the caves. And, the breeze in the sail of our ship takes us through the magic sea of love.

31 Grief, is dropping seeds and soon there shall be a forest. We hide our grieves behind a glass of wine, behind a curtain, and behind false and insincere laughter.

Wind blows hard, and our loud cry stays unheard under the roof of the gray room.

32 Tomorrow is my marvel. My lips repeat your name. Your name is a desire. A window which affixes me with 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 storm being born. Soon, there shall be no town but grass and flight

shall remain, so do the words. Look, tomorrow is our mirror.

33 The mirror cries when your reflection appears. Your face flies into mist. It is raining on the hill where I shall relive your memory. Garden has a compulsion for your smell. Grape does not ripe without you. There shall be no wine. At the end, there shall be your delicate memory left. In the half fairy-tale, half history, you shall be a legend. And I, I shall repeat the words.

34 You are lost in gloom. Connection is abandoned in this confusion. You must hear my words. Darkness, I carry the darkness on my back. It is the weight of thousands of years of grief I bear. I can no more deceive myself. I can not give you a present of falsity, fiction, and torment.

35

You have hidden your soul, and, I am looking for words. Words which can only define you Words to define your desirability. You are hidden from me and my memory. I am left to myself with dark soul and darker conscious. I fly with the wind, travel with the waves, sink in the sea, sit by the stars. But then I 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.

36 Birth is an accident, an unwanted, undesired accident. We carry our birth like waves on the sea. For fear of death we hold to a piece of word. Waves carrying us to our destiny. we only look at

where the water and sky meet. Destiny is the land we can never see. We wait, may be, just may be, the next wave would take us to that land. But, we get there and we see only a dry island. Destiny, just a few bubbles of happiness, before death flies in from the window. Like our birth, we can take no part in how to pace death; our last destiny.

37 My contemplation spread, expand, like cloud. Brings darkness to the house. Extends, to cover the fields. I hear your voice behind the window I open it, darkness comes in. Moon has left us, and light, has long been forgotten. Love is dropping from the leaves; one drop at a time. Flowers and butterflies wash themselves in its tenderness.

38 Calamity has surrounded me. No message, no besiege. Tired, I gave up the storm. Storm took me to the land of neglect. I graved myself in sand to rest.

39 Moon is greeting me from behind the wall. I write the words with the black ink on the spread of night. So, no one could see, so, no one could read. I walk in the dark of the night wearing black shroud. So no one could see me, so no one could greet me. Black river, running through black field. Smell of darkness, we feel. The mountain cries black tears.

40 I have lost the stars. Spring is in dark.

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.

41 Green leaves smile on dead trees in your dream. I become eternal in my dream and flowers blossom with your song. The wind brings the cloud, moon makes a comeback, gives you a present, a chain of stars.

Sleep here, I can no more tolerate the cloudy sky over my house.

42 Why did you escape ? You were running down the street. Trees are crying, no one else sits under 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 don’t dance. They loose their color, their music. Song are meaningless now.

43 I wait. The road turns, turning with the trees. In the silence of the shadows, your thought blossoms. Cloud promises rain. Wild daisies on the side of the road turn to the sky. Your tears rain on them. The thought of spring brings a garden of roses. The thought of you brings a house full of smile. Do not take your smile away. Spring shall never return without your smile.

44 Where did it go, the story of my life. I was telling you about the tenderness of the mornings. The two eyes left me. And I was back in the story of my life. I lost the world. Open the door to the same story of yesterday. I talk to rain of compassion the flowers have. Cloud gives me your smell. I walk the night looking 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.

45 In new bed, with new song, river

cleans the dust of yesterday from the memory of rocks. It is another sky, with another blue. you, sun, bring the morning. I laugh at the thought of yesterday. How foolish. The flowers were ashen, dull, till you brought the color.

46 I have lost the story I used to tell about dawn. Where are those eyes, I could see the world through them. I open the window, yesterday’s story flies in. I tell the rain of the charm of the flowers. Dawn brings in red, blue and yellow of the field.

She came, too late. dawn was gone.

47 She is sitting in the middle of garden talking to the stars. I am waiting for the cloud. I admire the cloud but it is long since I felt the drop of rain. It no more falls on my face and life. Call me, I have taken my cloths out, waiting for the cold. Look at me, I adore the ice and snow.

48 How simple it was the childhood. Jasmines were growing in my hand. I wasted it, thinking and waiting for today. I see the end of the street. It is all empty. I ran till I reached the shore. Shore was lost in mist. There was no rejoicing. How simple it was, the childhood. Jasmines are all dead.

49 Now, I am standing on the heavy side of my life. Each day closer to dust. Years have gone and now, I am hearing the song and her shadow. The song of 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 don’t 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.

50 The wind, is taking the spring from my soul. I closed the doors but the wind

came in through the windows. I put the world together with pieces of papers. Papers with your name on them. One candle light, and the end of my world. Only your name remained.