"Solitude is essentially a matter of pride; you bury yourself in your own scent. The issue is the same for all real poets. If you've been happy for too long, you become banal. By the same token, if you've been unhappy for a long time, you lose your poetic power...Happiness and poverty can only coexist for the briefest time. Afterword either happiness coarsens the poet or the poem is so true it destroys his happiness."
Hope is a priced possession. Hope if untamed, can drive a man insane. But you don't have to worry; when you go around the city, you'll find many restless, instructively breathless souls rallying to tame it down, trying to make it more befitting to the images within the familiar minds. Hope can create conflicts. A complete mayhem, an absolute confusion, some kind-of-a mental disorder. Hope can make you go irrelevant of the process; it often gets caught only on the outcomes. And when they don't turn out the way you want them, this very hope gets you to the edge, makes you impatient, drags you to a point where you have decide. You have to let go.. either have to kill yourself.. or your hope. It hurts me to see.. so many cultured well read, some of the best and the brightest of people opt to kill the latter, they did it and they do it almost every day. But I don't blame them for anything, in fact I connect. Its a tricky decision. And everyone has a right to stay happy.
I have a love-hate relationship with this city. But consider myself fortunate, I have met few of the most radiant, magnanimous and worthy people out here. My job is such, I get to meet new people almost every other day; and having worked with over a hundred organizations in last twelve months, I can surely say that we do not lack brilliance; the talent the capacity. What we just need is hope. To drive us a bit crazy. Hope embedded through the process, structured deep within the fabric of life. Owned. Pampered.
" I used to think that one day I'd be able to resolve the different drives I have in different directions, the tensions between the different people I am. Now I realize that is who I am. I do feel I'm getting closer to the song in my head. I wasn't looking for grace. But luckily grace was looking for me."
I'm finally back in here. And back to my normal ways. Life takes you places but on the way back home, you realize that your core hasn't really changed. Your value system surrounds you everywhere... it guards you, protects you from becoming someone else. It gives you confidence, it has given me confidence, that no matter what happens tomorrow, I'll always stay. Life is going to be tough I know but that's okay I think, unless I lose my way back home. The serration of their words may not affect much, I should always be humble. Structured within nature, devoted towards life.
I'm getting back to more refined forms of expression; this blog is one, music, photography are others.
These are turbulent times I know but lets just make this work. Lets celebrate whatever we have. Lets give out whatever we can, lets take in whatever we should. A cultured life if not anything else.
The ecstasy of a rebel is always brighter than the joy of a conformist. Trance, frenzy, a complete abstraction. Shining like a midnight sun, scorching like a full moon. The stage is never planned for a reformist; he would never go loud.