Can i write you a song my love
Can i paint you a picture
Can i hold your hand and take you on a journey
And take both our dreams along?
For all i see around me here is broken hearts
and shattered lives
I no longer wish to hide
I wanna go for this ride
Can i hold your hand take you along?
I feel the warmth of the sun on my face
And yeah, i smell the earth that's bathing in the rain
I can touch the rainbow and hold it in my hand
as i turn to see you smile
i wanna go for this ride...
Can i write you a song my love
and paint your world in hues that shine
Can i whisper your name so it wakes you up
In the dead of the night
Can i turn into soft breeze that blows over your window
Can i turn into the moonlight that peeps into your room
Can i turn into the little bird that twitters each morning on your ledge
or maybe i could warm your face
as the sun shine through your curtain every morn
Can i hold your weary head in my arms
Can i offer a home to the gypsy in your soul?
No, i no longer want to hide
I so wanna go for this ride
Can i paint you a picture...can i write you a song????
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
How precious am I?
How precious are you? How do you get to know that…how important am I to the one person who is most precious to me? That’s the simplest one to my mind now, well, now that I know the difference…
Remember how carefully locked away you keep that one rock of a diamond that you saved up all your life to buy? Or that gadget that you bought online after very careful consideration or that camera that you asked a million friends, even posted a query on facebook to check if you’re buying the right thing…and that crystal that you never let your nails touch for fear of scratching it? You carefully wipe the dust off the crystal and enjoy the light shining through it in all its multi colored hues…this makes you smile to yourself…and if you’ve been blessed…when you held your new born for the first time and each time you hold her…you hold her ever so gently. And, your heart skips a beat when someone asks to hold her while you finish up your chores…you wrap her up in the softest of sheets so her skin does not touch anything any less…you hold her so gently…warm in your arms…you run your fingers on her soft body as she gurgles…as you massage her soft skin with the most gentle of oils off the market shelf…that’s the memory that becomes a part of your soul...
And then you go through life with its many twists and turns…relationships, bitter - sweet, memories that make you cry…make you smile…and every time your life takes a turn, the question how precious am i?
If you value a crystal, a book that’s a classic or a painting that you created years ago with such care then how can you treat your love otherwise? If you’ve gone through life looking for that one soul that’s part of your being and the one person whose memory makes you smile at how she does the little things that she knows would make you happy…if all she wants is to be in your arms…is not looking for any tall promises…not looking for any big dreams…when all her world is right there in your arms…the moment you walk into her home her life…it’s almost as her world shrinks into that tiny little cottage…then how can you treat her otherwise? Why wouldn’t you hold her gently in your arms and want to protect her from the dust and the grime? Why wouldn’t you love her like she is the most precious thing on this earth to you? Would you ever in your worst moments be able to damage her being, be it physically or emotionally? Wouldn’t you do all in your power to preserve that spirit that makes yours soar? Wouldn’t you hold her and touch her ever so gently so her skin doesn’t get scathed? Wouldn’t you run your hands on her body with as much reverence as you feel when you’re standing in the rain getting cleansed and your soul released…as you see the tiny droplets of dew slipping off a new born leaf?
That’s the only way I know how precious I am to the one soul that I belong to…emotionally and physically…when I feel preserved and protected…when I am not scared of a scar that will keep haunting me for the rest of my life…that’s how precious I am…that’s how I know...the difference.
Remember how carefully locked away you keep that one rock of a diamond that you saved up all your life to buy? Or that gadget that you bought online after very careful consideration or that camera that you asked a million friends, even posted a query on facebook to check if you’re buying the right thing…and that crystal that you never let your nails touch for fear of scratching it? You carefully wipe the dust off the crystal and enjoy the light shining through it in all its multi colored hues…this makes you smile to yourself…and if you’ve been blessed…when you held your new born for the first time and each time you hold her…you hold her ever so gently. And, your heart skips a beat when someone asks to hold her while you finish up your chores…you wrap her up in the softest of sheets so her skin does not touch anything any less…you hold her so gently…warm in your arms…you run your fingers on her soft body as she gurgles…as you massage her soft skin with the most gentle of oils off the market shelf…that’s the memory that becomes a part of your soul...
And then you go through life with its many twists and turns…relationships, bitter - sweet, memories that make you cry…make you smile…and every time your life takes a turn, the question how precious am i?
If you value a crystal, a book that’s a classic or a painting that you created years ago with such care then how can you treat your love otherwise? If you’ve gone through life looking for that one soul that’s part of your being and the one person whose memory makes you smile at how she does the little things that she knows would make you happy…if all she wants is to be in your arms…is not looking for any tall promises…not looking for any big dreams…when all her world is right there in your arms…the moment you walk into her home her life…it’s almost as her world shrinks into that tiny little cottage…then how can you treat her otherwise? Why wouldn’t you hold her gently in your arms and want to protect her from the dust and the grime? Why wouldn’t you love her like she is the most precious thing on this earth to you? Would you ever in your worst moments be able to damage her being, be it physically or emotionally? Wouldn’t you do all in your power to preserve that spirit that makes yours soar? Wouldn’t you hold her and touch her ever so gently so her skin doesn’t get scathed? Wouldn’t you run your hands on her body with as much reverence as you feel when you’re standing in the rain getting cleansed and your soul released…as you see the tiny droplets of dew slipping off a new born leaf?
That’s the only way I know how precious I am to the one soul that I belong to…emotionally and physically…when I feel preserved and protected…when I am not scared of a scar that will keep haunting me for the rest of my life…that’s how precious I am…that’s how I know...the difference.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Rage is Creative
Rage…a word that so far I have associated with a hugely negative feeling…a feeling that I was, till a while back totally unfamiliar with…being someone who’s always chosen to walk the path of least resistance. Rage was always a feeling of unmanageable emotion that was so harsh and so unpleasant that I didn’t want to ever acknowledge it. But I do know I always carried it inside of me.
Rage against whatever I saw around me…rage against the people who decided they knew how to run my life better than I did…rage that ran so deep in my soul that it was perhaps somewhere digging in my own spirit, my own thoughts and feelings.
Today however I have come to a point where I realize that rage is one of the most precious and the most misunderstood emotions that I could ever feel…it’s important to be able to feel strongly about certain things in life…to be able to do something about them…and this too, is an extremely logical step by step process wherein we can actually utilize this rage and turn it into a creative process…
Rage is creative. However, before it can create, we have to learn to forego which we do, when we learn to acknowledge that which makes us so angry and let it go…then forgive those elements and people. Forgiveness itself is a cleansing experience…it releases energies that are softening…humbling and it is after forgiveness we find that the rage that was uptil then burning up our soul, is actually creative.
I believe that our masterpieces are created out of the darkest moments of our lives. And they thence turn the misery of those moments into bitter sweet yet treasured memories. The poetry and the painting or the music that erupts from the soul in such times, lends itself into renditions that are heart wrenching ….renditions that tear open our soul to create…for it is important to bare the soul to be able to create and these creations are priceless.
Rage, I have learnt is the one emotion that does not lie provided we have the courage to acknowledge it for what it is...
Rage against whatever I saw around me…rage against the people who decided they knew how to run my life better than I did…rage that ran so deep in my soul that it was perhaps somewhere digging in my own spirit, my own thoughts and feelings.
Today however I have come to a point where I realize that rage is one of the most precious and the most misunderstood emotions that I could ever feel…it’s important to be able to feel strongly about certain things in life…to be able to do something about them…and this too, is an extremely logical step by step process wherein we can actually utilize this rage and turn it into a creative process…
Rage is creative. However, before it can create, we have to learn to forego which we do, when we learn to acknowledge that which makes us so angry and let it go…then forgive those elements and people. Forgiveness itself is a cleansing experience…it releases energies that are softening…humbling and it is after forgiveness we find that the rage that was uptil then burning up our soul, is actually creative.
I believe that our masterpieces are created out of the darkest moments of our lives. And they thence turn the misery of those moments into bitter sweet yet treasured memories. The poetry and the painting or the music that erupts from the soul in such times, lends itself into renditions that are heart wrenching ….renditions that tear open our soul to create…for it is important to bare the soul to be able to create and these creations are priceless.
Rage, I have learnt is the one emotion that does not lie provided we have the courage to acknowledge it for what it is...
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