Whisps of Nirvana

So the city at times brings those rhythms of nights where you transcend your body all warmly tugged under those layers of furs and reach to that wild outside talking with wind with loud music behind. That excitement, thrill somehow penetrates deep inside each of your pores and you reach those colorful theaters with action and life – being out leashed right between those walls of darkness. There upon that platform you find yourself with that huge spot light creating a silver halo like that moon shimmering in that shady sky.

And once again those reflections and shadows enter your psyche making you see your own mirror image – out there in the wide cosmos. There are dancing people, nosing ones too. You observe the aging of time, your time reversal too. And yet, strangely, the thread of life – remains the same - glowing right there in the center of the circle – connecting all those dimensions of bifurcated terms to one unique self of yours.

And then you realize your social cipher vocation, endless vain research and those diving into spark lights – here in the present. You wonder, was it all worth it? Did I actually live it? Should I have done something else instead? Why am I not getting the right knit? And you get entangled in those nets of time only for a moment and then some other moment. You are still powerful and strong. You pull yourself from that fabric of right and wrong.

There you see a brighter self. The girl still erect in that night show shelf. There you see that strength to face it all. There is nature’s cosmic fall. And you enjoy the thrill of jumping from that cliff of ego - Right into that regenerating watery meadow. There you swim and transcend into some other time. There you undergo the journey of elemental self in rhyme. And there happens a rebirth – of bodiless creature - Having inside that fire, water, air, earth – yet with hollowed feature.

The hollow being keeps on getting its fill. It keeps aging in time’s mill. Each life-energy rotates that key. Each closure makes him free. and the being when realizes that mechanic entity. It seeks some other unmade city. All around was a land of zombies - Working so homogeneously with heterogeneous minds. But the spirit was the same – no spirit at all. all had huge egos despite of fall. There she escaped those dead spirits so alive. There she seeked another world – in her style.

In the shades of literature she found a new land.  She had epiphanies with cosmic hand. There she needed no more society. there was her – idealized society. But there was a loop- hole too. It was a utopia – in her craving’s lieu. After all, she was still inside her furs. There were no roads of real, no moon- bug spurs.

So there she iconized her reality, there she accepted the life of duality. The key was to be aware – aware of her mysterious secret. Bliss is nowhere but only inside it could be met - Inside those folds of literature, those slippery letters, and abrupt fracture. In those fragments of desires – was an invisible thread- of faith in cosmos, faith in her self. There it was – the linked up timeline -Those dreams of shadows and their wispy guideline. There she followed her guardian wisps. There she attained her inner bliss.

After all Buddha was not a deadly state of immortality. Buddha attained Buddha-hood right in his inner city. It is the state when one is content and aware – of cycles of life and death – one is bewared. And in each breath in and each breath out – one becomes a transcended stout. There in that micro moment between breaths –there happens the realization of mortality and wrath. There one attains freedom from it all. There one imbibes cosmic sound – stories of rise and fall. And there you get at peace with the time; there in your head is cosmic rhyme. 

written by - Mystical Wanderer