Above and Beyond the Cloud Cluster My Loony Mind Rambled
Off to Roads Where Clouds Come to Greet You
En Route Cherrapunji–To the Land of Clouds
Beyond the cloud cluster our vehicle sped through the vista wide and open, the road-ladder leading to the sky. The sky falling on earth as if rain, splashed, merged on the asphalt black.
My mind churns images from my memory coffer mixed into the fantas-y-tic imageries that move like projector slides from right-to-left.
The wheels on which our vehicle speeds doesn’t have a clue of my slow, rambling mind ruminating on these imageries–but the road.
How it is in me to create a scene with precision just the way my closed eyes envision–a little black, some white and lota gray.
My home in the cloud appears at a distance beckoning me to take stairs to the sky.
A sunny April afternoon has kept my nebula walk at bay, when in other times the clouds come down to greet you, pregnant with tears.
If it happened, I will not wipe the tears but let them fall, rolling down the cloud’s cheek, soaking her hand and moving like the road, now becoming water falling like waterfall, flowing like river into the sea……
Sometimes when you start to ramble
or rather when you feel you are starting to ramble
you will say Well, now I’m rambling
though I don’t think you ever are.
And if you ever are I don’t really care.
And not just because I and everyone really
at times falls into our own unspooling
—which really I think is a beautiful softness
of being human, trying to show someone else
the color of all our threads, wanting another to know
everything in us we are trying to show them—
but in the specific,
in the specific of you
here in this car that you are driving
and in which I am sitting beside you
with regards to you
and your specific mouth
parting to give way
to the specific sweetness that is
the water of your voice
tumbling forth—like I said
I don’t ever really mind
how much more
you might keep speaking
as it simply means
I get to hear you
speak for longer.
What was a stream
now a river.
What the human eye sees is an illusion of what is real.
There is something eternal about black and white. White a collection of all and black a void in none.
A combination that depicts life at its best–the yin and yan of happy-n-sad, which is inescapable in our life.
Residing in gray, memories are monochrome-al existence within our core, bringing out the smiles and tears with its natural pull, often fading all colours around us.
Celebrating imagination of impossible, imageries of unimaginable, creating a world within the real that exist only in my noetic space–this road journey is in monochrome till it turns sepia one day.
The black and white image transforms illusions
into another reality.” — Ruth Bernhard
This synchronous poetry I have used to speak my mind better is titled ‘To the Sea ‘by Anis Mojgani
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