A Rain held back for Months;
Its much anticipated Deluge—
Perhaps tucked away in another Time and Space
Somewhere—
Finally pours down.
And in the absence
of Obscuring Dust,
Unmasked
like the sparkling sands
Beneath the ebbing tides
Are Concealed Memories
of an Ancient Strength;
A Higher Glory—
All the Substantial and Fine prints
of Our Saintly, Peak Empire.
is beauty more noticeable when it is rendered limited and incomplete—a tease?
Sitting under the courtyard shade,
a block of dimmed rectangular architectural space
lays mildly cool;
Outside its precisely defined borders,
The sun seemed to have dyed everything
a bleached orange.
Waves of incessant breeze;
although felt in this unintended shelter, still carried
faint streaks of outside’s ubiquitous, gradually maturing
rolling heat.
Once more, the summer winds carry us—
some of whom have either been much too weary,
or others having regretfully
not been weary at all—
Into an apparently constant state
of pulsating
yet nonchalant dreaming.
Spring is surely a most wonderous time of the year, but it is not a cliché comprised of magical healing, nor does it promise total restoration of all that’s wrong with ourselves and the world around us. One could stand amidst sceneries breath-takingly beautiful, and still be haunted by inner shadows convincing him/herself that nothing is alright, that there has been too much wrong for glimpses of hope to realize into change or mending actions. However, if one chooses to see in symbols, drawing connections between observed physicality and metaphysical connotations, then a natural phenomenon like The Spring has much to offer: look at the Dandelion, never planted with intention, even conventionally seen as a pest, a weed that besmirches the neatness of civilized gardens; yet without any positive expectations, they flourish nearly everywhere, scattering on the sidewalks, swaying underneath interstate speedways, and sprouting in the middle church yards (as shown in photograph)—embodying bundles of wishes, waiting for the eventual breeze make them come true. Now think of us, how similar some of our lives may resemble that of the Dandelion—outwardly without deliberate meaning: we don’t know why we are here, or what is expected us on a grand scheme. We are scattered upon our Earth to germinate all over the place like the Dandelions. But does this mean we ought not to bloom like them and erect our individual bouquets of dreams and ideals out of the soil beneath? Should we do so regardless of how undesirable or lost we think we are? The Dandelions do…then as their not overly distant relatives on this Earth, could we learn to live more as they do? Make a sincere wish for yourselves this year, and send its silky winged seeds sky-bound—may it germinate and sprout into existence when Spring returns again.
Spring was late to smile upon us this year—Her sweetness felt shorter than usual, yet it was just as reassuring as the all the eternal Hope that She embodies. We shall take in full Gratitude what Grace, regardless of how ephemeral, that She has kindly imparted upon all of us—whether we opened our sleeping eyes to See or not.
It’s been raining all day here in my city; it’s nice to have these temporary periods of freezing but ultimately refreshing showers, as if nature is cleansing all of us in a preparatory ceremony of what’s ahead. Contrary to the conventional morose connotations associated with overcast days with incessant, chilling precipitation, I wish to persuade all of us to see it under a different light: Rain Excites; it dawns upon those who are willing the physical manifestation of inner tranquility, and rinses the once dried-up-tight knots of both the mind and body. Rain is a spiritual symbol of the meditative, altered state of mind, as well as the carrier of life.
a mutual understanding
Particular Moments 