My first love


She had hair that fell to the sides,
her smile was so sweet and warm, and reminded me of slivers of light lighting up dark spaces,
she played catch at recess that I too often played at solely for the sake of occupying a space that contained the very presence of her,
she liked math and she scribbled fractions on the back pages of her notebook sometimes when she lost herself to her mind,
and she made me feel like I was after what I never could have enough of,
She made me feel like I could never quite catch up to her stride,
so i’d run up to her side and try to talk to her with a fidgeting, nervous mind,
What is love but a meeting of the heart…?
Sweet irrepressible theatre of the human heart,
innocence so tender yet so distant like a star,
I wanted to tell her that I was in love with her human form,
I sat across from her in class and I talked to her in the loneliness of my heart,
believing and hoping that someday she would exchange words and thoughts of her own,
I did not know that I would move on and that she would leave my life after that brief special time,
She was the first to describe the word perfect in my life back then in those lost times,
There was something about her smile that so reached the most unreachable parts of my heart,
Like a star shining in the vast infinite skies, like a beam of sun trapped in a corner,
she made me feel things in my heart that I experienced for the first time,
I wrote her name with a scented pen in my rough note with childish impulsive eager joy,
I loved the way she inhabited my mind, I loved staring at her pretty face for a really long time,
I longed to hold her hand and to show her the stars at night,
she made me feel like she had a piece that was lost in the puzzle of my heart,
She was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen,
and the day felt hollow and dark when she left to attend second language class,
I did not know the world during those oblivious magical times,
I just figured that someday i’d end up marrying her and that we’d end up living together forever and ever,
I did not know about divide, about how people only fell for people that they liked,
I thought that she would someday feel for me what I felt so strongly for her,
but then her dad got transferred and she had to move to some far away place,
and for the longest time I walked around with a dejected saddened sigh trapped in what used to be my heart,
The slightest thought of her made my heart feel like it was struggling to find a pole to hang on to as it succumbed to the overpowering waves that flooded my sense of mind,
I was hurt because I did not realize that the people you dreamt about being together forever would sometimes just leave,
I grew sad and distant from my soul, Life was unfair and harsh,
all the poetic memorization of her timeless being had to continue now as a memory,
I walked the dusty vibrant grounds of my school’s playground with a deep serious ache that gnawed at my heart,
How could I let go of all the secrets that I had gleaned from hours of careful observation …?
She had been my work of art to work upon in the hours of leisure that childhood provided,
she had been the princess that I rescued from wicked one eyed pirates,
Teachers preached to me, kids your age should just have fun and play,
my friends said to me with all the artificial coolness of that innocuous age, forget her man.. There are plenty more fishes in the sea,
I was puzzled and confused, why should I bother with all the fishes of the world when I knew that I could never find someone as beautiful and reverberant as she..?
She echoed like waves crashing on rocky shores, she echoed like a forgotten voice in a desolate mausoleum ringing with delicate sorrow, faint and full of mystery,
She would be the first of many who would never truly learn the intensity of me,
and I don’t blame her, but I blame the others, I was a discovery waiting to happen,
I know that I could never have mustered up the courage to talk normal and ordinary words to her,
in my opinion she was too hallowed and beautiful for someone as common and shy as me,
Her animated conversations I memorized like a passage meant to be repeated, Her delighted and easy laughter I relished like warm, hot cocoa….and I played it on and on like a favorite pop song in my heart’s very own gramophone, she affected me constantly,
As time passed by I learnt how different all of us live our lives in the inner parts of our hearts,
She was someone who felt like a mystery to me, like how could she be so happy…?
What was her secret…? I would ponder over many fruitless wasted hours,
But I didn’t care and I did not want to know, she was an experience that did not require knowledge,
but as the classes changed, I moved away, from her and from my own impulse to grow fond of the sad sweet sorrow whose dying flames I constantly incited with offerings of my own,
So now she resides in a corner of my mind, like an evergreen bloom she makes me remember the beauty of what sometimes never can be,
and life since then has taught me that the script that we want doesn’t seem to quite agree with the script that is played, so I moved along like a passenger on a fast moving train,
Childhood, adolescence and Teen and other infinite forms of the human prism each plunging in and stretching space,
I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if things had gone my way,
Would she have smiled at me or would she have shrunk in horror…?
Maybe its better this way, but she will always be the experience that I use to measure my present suitors and crushes by,
She will always forever be my first real love….!


My Meditation passage for the day from Mountain Trailways for Youth by Charles E. Cowman


The morning is the time of wonderful light, dewy freshness, music, joy and promise! And youth is the morning hour of life. It is the time of lovely light, glad music, the delicacy of dew, the wonderful joy and promise of that which is to be. It is the time of vision, of high, happy and wide ranging ambitions and eagerness. It is the time for wings, for he who would rise aloft must have wings, and the morning is the winged time. Those two wings of the morning are Faith and Fidelity. There is no lofty life, there are no high clear spaces of the upper air possible except by the use of the two wings of the morning. 

But these two wings may be crippled by two weights which may hold us down in the dim, dusty, dreary, lower levels of life – Fear and Folly. Nothing cripples the wings of faith like being afraid to seek and hear the truth, afraid to listen to one’s own deeper voices, afraid to honor the best and obey the highest. It is folly to not follow the great, gifted, far seeing christian leaders of the centuries. 

Drop those weights of Fear and Folly! Take the wings of the morning and fly. Stretch those wings of Faith and Fidelity. Challenge them to your great adventure.Test them! Try them! Mount to the heights! Then the high places and the far horizons and the clear, infinite sky shall be yours with its radiance and its peace. Wings are yours! ‘ Take the wings of the morning’ – sure, serene, courageous and unafraid 

The Madness of Performing Alone


Walking the fine line between art and life,
too often the night lingers longer than the light,
Suspended in disbelief and the multiple apparitions of doubt,
Alone, very alone in a magical world uniquel spiritual of your soul,
To feel art in a world dulled by the senses,
to unravel the layers of stories hidden in the depths of ordinary life,
to write like one possessed of a singular thrill,
to love the word like the very breath of life itself,
to roar with the essence of madness,
to rush with the fierce panic of rivers,
to dream the dream itself,
to perform and write for eons in the labyrinth of the grand tempest,
to never know nurture but to only work against the demons of torture,
to stand near the edge of hopeless despair and build the sand castle more and more,
relishing its grand transience like a timeless ripple,
To lose oneself in the jungles of imagination for years,
fondling memories like sad dying flames,
to feel the city with the very nature inherent in your soul,
to sculpt your most poignant moments and mind sequences,
to paint your most indelible moments with the fire of never being known and realized,
to disappear time and time again into the insanity of loneliness,
to reappear and make heartless companions with wolves and tigers,
to love the crucible, the furnace and the prolonged torments of what could be,
to gather all the embers, the severed strands, the lost dreams and connect them to an undying whole,
and then play forever the song of your hopes and dreams so that you will never lose the light

How I began to write


I was a shy and silent kid with a persistent warm smile, I loved the stars and the glow of the moon in the dark velvety skies, 

alienated in the early years with subtle color remarks for you see I was dark skinned and teases meant to put me in place, 

it was not’ Oh, him …. He is a bundle of non stop energy… ‘ or ‘ He always plays non- stop… He is way too quick’  , it was always, ‘ Mister Black Lips’ followed by self indulgent adolescent laughs… the echoes of which I can hear in my adult heart or ‘Mister Crow face’ proclaimed with regal pomp and brute strength… that it almost tore whatever joy I felt at that time…. or my personal favorite… ‘ Why are you dark skinned when your mother’s skin is white….?’  


The phases drilled into me and took away the virginity of innocence that wished never to leave me, 

when I wrote during those times, they were small and they were fast, I thought that I could never write beyond a few emotional lines,

they were insecure and filled with the taunts and mocks of people’s hearts, they had changed… The color part by now was more implied, but now the latest fad was that I was weak, meek… timid.. I needed manning up… I was hit to see if I bent, I was punched because I stood up and talked back, and relentlessly mocked with girls whom the guys would never see with themselves.

My thoughts during those times were to hide, to stay away from the light and to not look anyone in the eyes… to scribble on my note as I stood outside class, punished for being unable to cope with the speed of the teacher’s favorite.

My poetry during those times was more insecure and filled with cutting doubts, I wrote about lost lone islands and silent roads leading through woods and forests which I hoped to explore later on in life, maybe I was drawing up an unconscious life plan unwittingly through my own mental progress.  


I felt different and I felt odd, everything I did felt disjointed and vast, I had no core to reach into, 

I had somehow passed the shackles of school life, 

college opened my eyes to a brave new horizon, but as always challenges abounded, 

what had been color and the wrong of being conscientious and different now became an issue of class, 

Clueless and naive as usual, I assumed that I could befriend and talk with anyone and not be reminded of the enormous gap, 

Silent poison and hierarchical menace, convinced me that I had to again find solace in the empty silence, 

I wrote about what I could not understand, I wrote about being treated wrong, I wrote about revenge for my insides burned, 

I wrote about the girl who i’d in later years try very hard to forget and I wrote about my struggles and lack of identity 


But life moved on, my heart bruised and scarred sought for strength and hope, 

I fed my ego and allowed my fears to become demons, demons whose cruelty drove me to relentlessly pursue victory at any cost, 

after forgettable years of further education, I landed in the university beside the sea, 

and something in my heart changed and became light, I felt the call of the road, the call of the heart to explore what had been for so long unconsciously stored in my soul, I felt words summon me, I felt the words flow through me and possess me, I wrote during hours of monotonous lecture, I wrote besides the waves on a sunny afternoon, I wrote hidden away in the big old library hall below big pictures of men who owned prestige and dignified command… I began to see what was ahead of me, the hounds of the past chased me unwilling to relinquish command of my soul’s powers, I became a mask, I became a hobo trapped in the heart of a postgraduate man, nothing enthralled me like the words flowing right from my soul… I had new life stirring beneath me, 

I sought to unify my thoughts and I sought to unify the hardened with the incorruptible, I sought freedom, discovery and love, I began to write with a fury , I learned that I had a voice, although insecure, shy and often subjected to the demons of the past… but there were things about me that I had to write to find out… I revisited old flames, old enemies and constructed landscapes filled with blurry rushes of whatever had once terrified… I became a nightingale, a fly on the wall, a journey man, a madman wandering in a hot desert, a love struck teenager finally finding the courage to confess feelings, I wove dreams of things that I had never found the hope to say… I became me, I realized that I had held back for way too long… I had lived with others in my heart… but I had to become selfish now to spend time alone in my own heart… selfish to taste peace, freedom and an open mind

So I began to write, and write, for words became my memoirs, my memorable photographs, the companions for my lonely hours… brought to life the lost loves of my heart… Trapped the music that I replayed in my heart when I felt sad or lost… I found worlds awaiting my voice, I wrote since I felt that there were things that I had to learn to say… I wrote since I had paid the price to finally open up what God had given me inside all along.