Remember

Crossing The Bridge To Complete The Circle

…to bridge the circle.
[Image by David Mark from Pixabay]

He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass.

George Herbert

For it is a circle and you must learn to remember.  

The stored memories, the cherished ideas, the endless thoughts, the proud emotions, the stubborn beliefs, the intuitive steps and the unknown, all of it nurtured by time. You learn to watch for the twists and turns, you accept the changes, sooner or later. You experience the journey.  

And when those eyes are old enough, when that smile is true, that is when you are able to see another’s journey and that is when you are able to forgive… for life is a circle and you must learn to remember.


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Dear September

Happy me with happy flowers in September.
Image – Pixabay.

Do you remember how snowflakes made the little girl smile? And how velvety the whole valley looked? And me… jumping like a rabbit in white madness that I love so much…?

Oh sorry, that was January.  

Do you remember when the squally winds took my hat away?  

Ha! It was February. Sorry-sorry!  

Surely you remember the rush of the colours – rich green, bright but soothing yellow, and joyous merry pink… oh what days, colours dripping music and more… glorious days, sunshine in store read the headlines and our red shoes couldn’t stop dancing, remember?  

No? Colours rule, hurray, hurray… March, April and May… Oh! So it lasted till May… my mistake.  

But then mangoes arrived and shined and peaches and plums and cherries and strawberries… and never did we see such a bigger moon… what a splendour, you had said, I clearly remember, you can’t deny… the moon and the earth and the sky all in tune.  

Oh! It was June.  

The moon and the earth and the sun all in tune… oh, it was June.
Image – Pixabay.

Those monsoon showers I hope you remember… lie, if you have to, at least to save me from heartbreak. Puddles and paper boats, raincoats and wet pockets, teacups and gossips… Don’t take it all as a joke, I am hurt and you know it. But I won’t cry like you did and sneezed and laughed and cried again. We shared the longest hug… no, I am not mad.  

July and August… My bad!  

The golden autumn leaves, don’t say you don’t remember… we jumped on them, you and I… We liked the crunch-crunch sound… but that old uncle who wore a woollen Kulluvi-cap didn’t and he ran after us… remember?

Long walks in those misty mornings, me shivering you laughing, me yawning you still laughing… I even wrote a poem titled – September laughed throughout October and November…  

Am… Sh, why am I getting it all wrong?  

Lights and candles and time for celebrations… candies and cakes and handy resolutions… Oh! I know, am wrong again, you don’t need to say it… “December, December, December!”  

Indeed it was in December.  

Oh, my dear September… accept my apologies and hear what I have to say… whatever the calendar ever tells me, whatever the weather ever shows me, I carry September in my heart throughout the year, for September is special to me and will always be.  

The carousel plays on and on, it is where we met for the first time, I came reluctantly to that fair or was I dying to be there… but I am sure I stayed for you.

My dear September, I love you!  

Oh, so you do remember… ah September!

September Love!
Image – Pixabay.

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You think the King Remembered What He Was Supposed to Remember?


I am the greatest of all great kings. I rule the land and the sea. Bow to me!

You’ll be dust one day, and completely forgotten.

My sons will carry my family name. We are the royals. Cheers to me!

Your sons will be dust too, and never talked about, ever.

My public worships me. I shine in gold and silver, I am the one they write about. Sing to me!

Once dust, you’ll become a name in a chronological list of the dead kings.

I am a just king, blessed by the almighty.

You think you’re immortal?

No. I know I’ll die one day.

Like all the others.

Like all the others…

Just remember this.


(In reference to no particular king and each and every king.)


Roger II of Sicily receiving the crown
from Christ, Martorana, Palermo.

Illusion is the First of All Pleasures – Voltaire

Ocean eyes, an illusion or a reality…
[Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay]

All that you see, all that is in your mind, all that you have experienced, all that which breathes within you, exists only because you are.

The inevitable change assures gently that illusion is reality and the rest a seeming.

The carousel of life goes on; from the darkest night to the brightest morning, from black and white to the rich spectrum, you pass by. Humming a single note, you pass by.  

The end, the beginning. Remember?  

You created the rainbow as you saw it, you replied to the mountain when you echoed, you walked ahead to make it happen, you looked behind to say goodbye, you stopped to realise and what was beyond came to you with an epiphany.  

Illusion is a friend. Fathomable, it is the reality.


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A Painting That Sways

Paint and sway.
Image by Pixabay.

Delicately touched

Touched only to sway

Swayed with love

And loved just to say

To say it loud enough

Enough of the artificial blue light

Pure blue light of the sky and the moon

The sky and the moon that play a harmony together

Together they sing to me

Me, who breathes quite often,

Often they sing and I dance

Dance like I am a cloud close to them

A cloud close to them that is me

Me, who dreams to be free,

Free like the painting of a moonlit night

And a moonlit night will always say

‘Hey, paint well and remember to sway.’


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Lost In La La La

La la la
I am dancing
La la la
I am laughing
La la la
Sky is clear
La la la
Life is near
La la la
Brightness in me
La la la
Lightness in me
La la la
All I see
La la la
Is the glee
La la la
I am Miss
La la la
I know bliss
La la la

[Tiara was singing this weird song. She was hopping in the garden. The flowers were looking at her and so were a white rabbit and a caterpillar. Lost in the present, Tiara was happy. There was no particular reason behind it. Everything was beautiful and pure. A blue bird was sitting on a tree near the garden. She had a message for Tiara. It was full of lustre. The blue bird thought it was time to deliver the message. Tiara, who was without a clue about it, was blushing with joy. A kind of ‘joyfulness’ that brings a huge smile on your face, that makes you peaceful, that stops your mind from thinking and time from running.
The blue bird landed on the lawn and Tiara took notice of her. Their eyes met. Tiara immediately knew what she was meant to know.
{The lustre will stay in her like a fragrance; all she needs is to remember.}]