The (a)Gnostic Seeker:We make up the gut of the Universe (Posts tagged likeapainting)

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The (a)Gnostic Seeker:We make up the gut of the Universe

The nihilists were wrong all along, and the mystics, right. We all have a job to do! To partake in the bliss of the universe. We are all tiny pieces of somethings floating in the vast ocean of nothingness.

I sit there inquisitively with my buddy, and both of us goggled up—I with blue and him, I know not. And I see blue skies, blue water, and a million shades of blue permeating everything, and I conclude, like a proud empiricist—et Voila! The world is... — I sit there inquisitively with my buddy, and both of us goggled up—I with blue and him, I know not. And I see blue skies, blue water, and a million shades of blue permeating everything, and I conclude, like a proud empiricist—et Voila! The world is blue!!
#blueeverything #blueeverywhere #likeapainting #mobilephotography #heavilyedited #qualia #problemofotherminds #whatisitliketobeabat #biases #lawofattraction #philosophy #spirituality (at Mankavu, Kozhikode)
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blueeverything blueeverywhere likeapainting mobilephotography heavilyedited qualia problemofotherminds whatisitliketobeabat biases lawofattraction philosophy spirituality

vippik

I sit naked at my study

And drive my body

Into a dizzy dreamland

Where my schedules are followed in inverse

I knew and I promised it would be my last trip

But to no avail, you see

I’m tired for real

From trying myself

Trying my limits beyond stretchability

Exactly where nuclear bombs explode

It’s nowhere near Nagasaki or Hiroshima though

As you possibly assumed

Y'all ‘literal’ freaks

It’s where I seek love, even if only in its semblance

It’s where I think life sprouts

And clouds sing

I’m tired, take me home

My clogs under my weight, pant

And I, under yours

I hear his voice

Where masculinity booms through

I offered him a seat

In my couch

And he offered me, on his crotch

Who am I then?

A host or a ghost?

I offered him a home

In my couch

Where my worries relax

Every afternoon

Post my gardening

I croon along the summer breeze

And I water my soppy saplings

And they all go to sleep

Except the snake-plants

I shamble around with my sorrows

And I knit them into my winter-wears

And inside our dak-bungalow

I let these silly sorrows play around

With my kittens as they seep silently in

Through my woody windows

I feed them sunlight

And crumbs of my broken soul

And I let them sleep under my

Queen-size bed with no sleep on it at all

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