You may travel far and wide
But you will never find
the end of the Mind
the beginning of the Universe.
Tag: Poetry
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no end
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metamorphosis
The mind is its own magical universe
Transforming the raw senses of experience
Into the tamed thoughts and ideas of reason
At the signals of its stars that fire from within
as crude caterpillars becoming beautiful butterflies.
Author’s Note: Finally, I had a lull moment during my lunchtime today. Hence jotting down this poem… I took the inspiration of this poem of mine from a synthesis of the two wise men, John Milton and Robert Waldo Emerson. Both of them knew about the power of the mind that could change heaven into hell, and vice versa, even before the advent of neurology. The gist of the wisdom of these two great minds is that a human being is said to be a corporeal manifestation of the mind through a mysterious process of idealizing the raw senses in the most intelligently positive way in the working of the brain. It is akin to a process of becoming a beautiful butterfly that yearns for coming out of the cocoon. This poem is intent on being my own mantra to learn to deal with the existential vertigo in the spirit of Amore feti, love of fate, and the Nietzschean guide of “That which does not kill you makes you stronger.” For life is primary after all, and thoughts about it secondary to those of us making a living out of a full-time job.
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beautiful mind
The image of Aeneas in her eyes awakes
the primal senses in the thalamus,
lights the vision in the occipital cortex,
decides that she loves what she sees
as the sensation becomes consciousness
on the high altar of the prefrontal cortex,
and then on the funeral pyre it all becomes
her dolorous memories in the hippocampus.Author’s Note: The subject of neurogenesis and neuroplasticity is multidisciplinary, ranging from literature to history, fine arts, and sociology, because it analyzes how the mind works by conceptualizing raw senses into consciousness. That said, I wanted to incorporate the bullet theory of how the brain works in connection with the operation of cognitive faculties called “the mind’ into my favorite unrequited love story of Dido, the beautiful queen of Carthage who hopelessly felt for the wondering Trojan hero Aeneas, who left her at the behest of of Juno (Zeus in Greek mythology).
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bath of oblivion
Sleep by Jean-Edouard Vuillard. Sweet sleep, gentle sleep, nature’s kind nurse
puts me into the bath of Lethean forgetfulness
with the balm of rosebud for the heartaches
and wipes away my tears from the sorrow eyes.Author’s Note: I hope to forget all things, erase all things, clean all things from the tablet of my mind, which is filled with woeful stories and unpleasant scenes of the day. Sleeping has been the only natural medication that relieves me of the hurt mind.
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Alas! poor lady! I know her, Horatio.
Loaded, not armed, she crept along with
pain and humiliation, despairing of success,
ambitious to vanish into the ether…
Fired with indignation, distracted with despair,
Amid the barbarous ranters, she flew.Author’s Note: There she was, an alleged witch brought to the Inquisition, for no other reason than being heretically angelic.
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goodbye to april
Le faucheur by Henry Moret When the hounds are on
winter’s trailsThe Lady of Seasons in
meadows and fieldsdons the barren places soon
with green sleeves and emeralds.Author’s Note: It’s the end of April, which will never come back, vanishing to the horizon of time and space, the misty past with memories and images. I was on my last train home after work this evening and wanted to record this last day of April of 2019, which was my first April here in California. So as a ceremonial gesture of farewell to my Californian April, I wrote this poem as I was basking in the bright golden rays of the gorgeous Californian Sun that began to stay a little later than before.
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