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First Published: September 24: 2015


















































Nature and Solitude

Nature and Solitude Arkive Year Alpha September 24: 2015- September 23: 2016







Poetry of Solitude














Close Not Your Eyes






Close Not Your Eyes: Never. Never Forget Life Is a Miracle: Even When It Is No Longer There: Such As In Dead Wood Or This Dead Snail Shell: Even There Another Kind Of Life Goes On And Even There It Is Magnificent A Thing To Experience: Everything Goes On And In This Going On There Are All The Sciences Mathematics Arts And Music And All The Beauty They Bring To Life: Open Your Senses As Antennae And Look And Reach And Respond And See What Sciences Unfold Before You And How Much Beauty Comes Into Your Soul And Remain Humble And Respond To Their Music And Sing: And Always Open Your Palm To Receive With Fingers As Lit-Vines Of Wonders Reaching Out To This Emerald Light: Smile As If This Will Light Up The Universe And You Are Lit: March 05: 2018











 Snow: February 28: 2018
















Say Nothing and Stay as the Eyes in the Night

Ellesmere Island mountain tops bathed in light as the sun began to peak over the horizon, during Operation Ice Bridge’s first flight of its 2017 Arctic campaign, on March 09, 2017. Image: NASA:Nathan Kurtz

April 21: 2017



A Good Painting to Be a Part of: Thought the Ducks

January 05: 2017



Between and Beyond the Two Sets of Doors at the Airport Departure Lounge


Life in which, as if one suddenly finds oneself woken up at an airport departure lounge, where there are two sets of doors that are always open: one, through which people come in and the other, through which people depart. The only thing that is striking is no one that comes in through the entry door knows where one is coming from nor where one is heading but every one knows that they are waiting to leave, to go, to depart. And that one can see, being there, that no one that has come in here fails to do that: to come and wait to depart and finally departing. And this fact is striking, too, that no one enters with any baggage and everyone leaves, as they came, with nothing. The door through which one enters the departure lounge can be seen as the 'door' with a curtain instead of a real door, so that through it one can and one does come back to oneself, wakes up in reality, when waking from a dream. And when woken up one, in the cases of the majority of one's dreams, does not remember anything. In this case, at the departure lounge, however, waking up inside it, one does not remember anything whatsoever, at all. Although, they retain a sense of something missing, as is they had a void inside them where something used to be or as if they were part of something, but they cannot understand this and the related sense of a longing... Rabindranath Tagore puts it this way... if only I had known what this hurt I have is about I would have told you...

And the other door through which people depart can be said to be the same door except it is a shut door through which only spirits can pass through one way so they cannot come back, through which people go back to themselves waking up into a reality from dreams; because this door, when departing does not open at all so that the departed are unable to return back and 'wake up' back onto reality of life that goes on in the departure lounge. So that, one thinks of la vida es sueno: life is a dream. Living life is when one rises as if from a dream onto a 'reality' that one does not recognise nor does one remember about one's other reality from which one fell into this dream that brought them into an existence that seems real to them which, when in dream, one does not remember either. And when they leave the departure lounge they depart from this 'dream' that until leaving felt like real and to the people they left behind, it still feels like real.

And when they are gone, might they be waking up back into their reality from where they had fallen onto a dream that allowed them to have this extended dream, which they live without remembering anything of that reality from where they fell into the dream on earth, that on earth humans call life or reality? And in this sense, is not life a dream? It's as if there is an infinite sphere, a different reality, in which there is a finite one which is reality on earth and one that exists in the infinite sphere falls into a dream and gets sort of locked up and does not remember the fact that one had fallen from a different infinite sphere of a world into a dream. And when released from this dream, this reality or rather leaving the departure lounge, one gets freed from this dream, from this reality and goes back or wakes back up onto the infinite sphere that was one's reality from which one fell into this dream, this life, on this earth. Whatever way we speculate what stands clear is this that this tiny existence in this departure lounge is a glance, a trace, a fragment against eternity if seen against how long dreams are deemed to last. Dreams are terribly, terribly short. The longest human dreams last seconds.

It thus, requires not much genius to realise that when one came into this lounge and found oneself, as if woken up there, without any memory whatsoever, there were different people there, who, having arrived, waited their time and turn, departed and new people arrived and started waiting for their departures. It does not require much high thinking to realise that everyone waiting at this departure lounge invariably and unfailing departs and no one that comes in never goes back out the way they came in nor does anyone that departs ever comes back into the lounge. Therefore, the common sense observation now becomes almost like a formula that can be summed up as: that this existence in this departure lounge is definitively finite and tiny, almost a flicker against eternity and that those who find themselves woken up into it have this existence without being able to know where it springs from or how long it lasts nor do or can they know where it disappears into. And further, that no one comes with anything and everyone leaves with nothing.

This is because no one has any memory of where they were coming from when they find themselves woken up inside this departure lounge and because no one knows where they are heading or simply vanishing and this is because no one has ever come back to 'tell the tale'. And therefore, this entire existence inside this departure lounge is punctuated by the preparation of being not only able and willing but also ready to depart. Readying to depart from all that one was, all that one did, create, give and receive, all that one loved and all that one was loved. And in this, was Socrates not absolutely right when he poses the question, ''And what does this mean but that she has been a true disciple of philosophy and has practised how to die easily? And is it not philosophy the practise of death?'' And if we 'practise death' do we not live the better form of existence so that we realise what a wastage of existence this is that is spent in gathering and seeking to gather materials, money, wealth, assets, cars, homes, fames and whatever material there is to be gathered together? And does that, would that not make us better humans in which we conquer greed and defeat its stranglehold on us so that we really become free?

For we all are born and we exist our entire existence inside this departure lounge waiting to depart and we all do and must, when our turn arrives, depart. There is no variation in this law. It applies to all. One might say, isn't it terribly depressing to look at life like that? Surely, life is much more than this? And the very point and purpose of this short piece is to seek to show this very point: life is surely and is absolutely, definitely and truly much more than this. But when we realise this, when we see this as clear as we can see, when we accept and wholehearted celebrate this fact that we are in this departure lounge and we shall leave it when our turn arrives, only than the true nature, the true 'gift', the true magnificence of life, of humanity can be understood. Only than we would value, love and seek to do all we could to protect it, live it and make the absolute best that we could make of it. And this realisation makes us more humble, more thankful, more kind, more gracious, more compassionate, more helpful, more thoughtful, more appreciative, more caring, more inquisitive, more accommodative, more giving, more loving, more contemplative, and more understanding as well as making us not to take anything and anyone for 'granted'. And accomplish this seismic change in attitude, outlook, viewpoint and approach to life and living and ask yourself what a revolutionary reworking and restructuring in the architecture and architectonics shall this bring about in the human psyche? In one word, what does that translate into, it makes us, human exactly as humanity is and is to be.

This enlightenment tells us this and we are able to say: O life! How magnificent a thing you are and what an astonishing gift it is that I have you that makes me what I am, that I can be and that I would like to be. But the 'but' lingers in the air, but we are going to leave. Yes, but even that helps to sharpen your love, commitment and resolve to make 'the very best' of that what you can make of your existence. Then one asks, but what's the point for I shall cease to exist? The point is this that one often does not see: when one ceases to exist, meaning one has already left the departure lounge, one has still left oneself behind: in the things one became, the things one created, the things one did, the things one received, the love one loved, the love one received or in another words the humanity that one became is left behind at the departure lounge where these fragments and flickers of humanity still exist.

And you ask where: in the memories, in the hearts, minds and souls of those who one has left behind and and one departed can be found in these hearts, minds and souls whom one was able to have touched, reached, supported, cared for, loved, guided, moved and sought to make better, offer comfort and support and even sought to heal with all that one became, with all the things that one created, with the things one did, with the things one received, with the love one loved and with the love one received and all that still exist and become an endless source of great 'resource' for humanity. And what is even more astonishing and awe-inspiring is this that this fragments of one's humanity do not die there but live on in these souls and they pass it onto the next generation so that it creates almost like a living mythology of living humanity. Example, Nelson Mandela: those who knew him would eventually leave the departure lounge but they ensured that what he was, he did is passed on. And this living mythology of humanity in the name of Nelson Mandela shall carry on living as a source of eternal inspiration. So you have William Shakespeare or Tolstoy or Homer or Einstein or Mother Teresa or Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King or Gandhi and the list could go on. And life goes on and it continues to sing the Ode to Joy and it still hears the Eighth Symphony that Sibelius did not leave behind other than this sense that he had heard it but was not happy for the fact that he could not simply bring it into a finite expression, into a playable symphonic appearance that he had so desperately wanted to bring to reality.

And the symphony, this Immisian Symphony, goes on... listen out and never forget for an instance, that the door is there and you are waiting your turn... and in the meanwhile, seek your hardest and strive your best to bring the absolute high best of what you are and what you can become and reach and touch and move to make better, to offer to become help and support and an infinite resource of that what is called inspiration. Be a legend of a human being, become a mythological figure of a humanity so that it becomes an eternal spring for humanity for all times. This is why I have spent this time putting together this piece. Be the Ode to Joy while listening out for the Eighth Symphony and write your own Ninth Symphony. I go on listening out the Immisian Symphony that feeds my soul with the greatest of hope, of faith and of conviction that we humanity are, can be and must be better than what and where we are at and that better is possible. Against the insanity, the bleeding, deaths, destructions and devastations and the evils that surround and keep burning the world and world humanity, I close my eyes and see the Universe where everything follows the rule of law and that shows me the symphony of joy, of peace....and I seek to sing it and invite you towards opening your soul to that...

December 04: 2016


Poetry Lives in Nature and Speaks in Solitude

Poetry Lives in Nature and Speaks in Solitude: A Poet, Therefore, Finds Her:His World is Like the Sand of the Seashore: Both in Touch with the Earth and the Sea. Or the Earth in Moonlit Night When and Where the Light and the Dark, the Sound and the Silence, the Earth and the Moon  and the Earth and the Universe Form a Oneness in Which is Played the Music of Solemnity, Serenity and Soulfulness: A Music That is Beyond Human Capability to Grasp But Its Existence and Its Reality Can Only Be Elvisioned as Glances, Flickers, Flashes, Slivers and Openings by the Soul if It is in Equilibrium with That What is the Other, The Universe-Whole. Poetry is Open to That and is Nurtured and Inspired by Only That. And This is Why Inspiration is an Enigma as the Human Soul is, as the Universe is That We Can Feel We Understand and Grasp But Realise That It Just Simply Won't Be Held by Our Fragile Forms of Human Cognition. It Always Is in the State of Is Not But Izzing: It is Always Izzing: Always Becoming. But It Always Becomes That What We Choose It to Be, What We Imagine It to Be, What We Think It to Be, What We Create It to Be, What We Work It to Be, What We Make It to Be, What We Shape It to Be: The Noun of Love and the Verb of Love Become One: In Being in Love, In Doing Love and in Giving and Praising One Becomes the Bloom of That What One Chose, Aspired, Imagined, Created, Worked, Loved and Did to Become with One's Life. Poetry is Beauty's Tongue in Which the Truth Speaks the Landscapes of Infinity and Bring About Eternity's Gifts for the Human Souls That Live on the Human-Shores of All Times. October 19: 2016

VI London Poetry Festival 2017: October 14-17: Sat-Tues: 19:00-23:00: Notting Hill St John's Church: London W11 2NN




Nature and Solitude


















The Candle Won't Blow Out Celebration of William Shakespeare 2016

There is no better way to celebrate William Shakespeare than reading his life's works




What a piece of work
is a ''man''! How noble in reason! how infinite in
faculties! in form and moving, how express and
admirable! in action, how like an angel! in
apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the
world! The paragon of animals!


Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

400 years since the passing of William Shakespeare this year, yet he seems as young by as many years...................




























The Candle Won't Blow Out Celebration of William Shakespeare 2016