Ludvik
There is no start. So the end is also meaningless. My life is more a metaphor than a visual thing. And it is for this reason I touched it by dint of metaphors…that is my life itself. Most of us remain in a state of material inertia unless there is a flash of blue light that burns the sleeping body and let soul look at it in its own eyes.
So I woke up one night or was I still sleeping? And I went into another sleep, another awakening in another sleep. The ether always hits soul like a blue wave…the same way I was bathing in a river. I guess life is a river that merges with its own longing for ethereal streams.
I often watched the sky, space, stars in those eyes that seek bathing in light, breeze and all the ethereal charms…So I needed metaphors, I needed constant excitement, flashes, sparks. I was always interpreted as mysterious, arrogant, penetrating, enigmatic, stupid person. But our social constructs are so weak that it itself surrenders to rejoice. Yes.
I seduced others. They are my metaphors. They connect me to my river, to their river, to our river, to us.
What is the source of this constant search? Perhaps the quarks behaving in a string of vibrating chords…eternal music. Some people call it ‘Naadbrahma’. Be that as it may, in any form or without a form, because form is also formless in itself and unless this whim of our soul is uncovered we go to churches, we visit Mosques; we offer prayer in Temples and forget our aspirations as indivisible part of universe.
What next? I’ll keep my own promise. A libertine never forgets to love and escape after the flower has fallen from the branches. I’ll love the same aspirations of the same flower that is still in the branches…waiting for the night.
So I woke up one night or was I still sleeping? And I went into another sleep, another awakening in another sleep. The ether always hits soul like a blue wave…the same way I was bathing in a river. I guess life is a river that merges with its own longing for ethereal streams.
I often watched the sky, space, stars in those eyes that seek bathing in light, breeze and all the ethereal charms…So I needed metaphors, I needed constant excitement, flashes, sparks. I was always interpreted as mysterious, arrogant, penetrating, enigmatic, stupid person. But our social constructs are so weak that it itself surrenders to rejoice. Yes.
I seduced others. They are my metaphors. They connect me to my river, to their river, to our river, to us.
What is the source of this constant search? Perhaps the quarks behaving in a string of vibrating chords…eternal music. Some people call it ‘Naadbrahma’. Be that as it may, in any form or without a form, because form is also formless in itself and unless this whim of our soul is uncovered we go to churches, we visit Mosques; we offer prayer in Temples and forget our aspirations as indivisible part of universe.
What next? I’ll keep my own promise. A libertine never forgets to love and escape after the flower has fallen from the branches. I’ll love the same aspirations of the same flower that is still in the branches…waiting for the night.
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