what is meditation?

when you stop waiting

you stop looking

to start seeing

there are no expectations

as the dust settles

around you and makes

a cast of your self now


as you shift and how it crumbles

around you

this ground

it is fleeting it is falling as you follow

that train of thought into an empty

hollow when meanings

disintegrate and matter remains

that thuddud of heart that beating shell

that presence

when silence and stillness are the

only things that remain.




as the sun slowly sets over the river of gange

and the night gently pulls its cover over the landscape

dogs howl and frogs begin to creek

singing forlorn symphonies into the black

and the moon gently pulls at the earthand the space falls into spot-white stars

shimmering from a place where dreams

often tread over minds like a weave

that keeps them warm


checks up on you like gravity

he provided proof in an utterance,

what mind lies scattered on the grass?

what dreams exploded on the path?

what madness lurked beyond the glass?

Mother, you found him

you found his breathtaking breathless self

still as a stone statue 

“stay” we asked and your silence implied

that you could not because

you were out of time

I looked for time in your history

in the things you did and the people you met

they gave me your glittered moments I put them

in a jar they glowed like nightlights

to guide me in the dark

then fizzled into nothing when I had

wandered too far from home

mattness, a stillness that echoes like

a broken television

you wait, far from here





I wish that I could fly. I wish that my soul could skim the surface like a pebble chasing water from the sky. I wish that I could understand and communicate, dance as if nobody were watching me but that everyone was listening. I wish that you were listening. That I could live in love with the universe knowing that this is how everything is meant to be. And it is how it is meant to be.  That the wind rushing by and the petals that disappear from the sky in the breeze those passing moments this passing time and the gravity upon me like a humble blanket and that ground from which to stand on to believe that this is real. I wish that I could see how the atoms dance in with that gravity, and to capture the joy of each passing moment and to store it in a jar called forever. And to learn from every instant a lesson that will help me step. This is world. It is season. This is beautiful. It is summer. I wish that I could face it and see how the sunshine reflects off the leafs how it travels from the edge of the universe and through the atmosphere. I wish I knew how to step into that bliss of present. Let the world run. Let the universe rush. Let me be.

elethi yuweswis fi sudur el nas

Save me

When all their whispers stuck on me

like webs, and let thoughts crawl over

what was

Now I have taken a step back

and switched my eyes to glass

and they still whisper words that sting

into the night, it seems, everyone is

painting pictures using people as paints

and ears as their canvas.

Tell me

-what is the art in that?

I have already lost it I am

already broken so

what are you painting for?

I think there was a lesson to learn

I think that this is it.


How do I change?

How can I restructure the

cycles in my mind?

If i must break them first

then where is that 



that I can use to crush

thoughts into adaptable pieces?

I dreamt that I was dying that

the spears you held threateningly

finally found their way and 

then I was a ghost

crying for the end of the world

trapped as a two-dimensional

image in a printed poster-picture

as the end credits quickly 

run across the screen


your hands are full

you wanted water so you cupped your

hands beneath a waterfall and

it all fell down.

you wanted a grain of sand so

you picked up a handful and


you could not find it.

you wanted reason so you barred yourself

with a foolproof logic and it

left you stone-cold robotic

-but why didi Dorothy’s scarecrow

always wish for a heart?

I am not a number

I am not a checklist

I am not a moment 

I am not fleeting

I am a soul





i saw the psychology behind some

reason and it left me stone-cold


for a moment and

the conclusion?

-step up in the consciousness 

of self

-it was not me

I know better. 




never said a word

never needed to be heard

invisible never made a sound

it sat in a comfortable silence

being everything that it was

within a satisfied sigh

Invisible never had a place

it never needed anyone around

it never took a part

of anything it never

claimed a state

instead it sat

still as a skill or a skittle on a 


invisible never asked

for anything

it knew there was enough and so

with inward palms tied and 

closed eyes wide shut it

never looked

it never took 

invisible knew the world would pass

through it like it were sieve 

it hoped to catch the important bits

still as a skittle on a till