Season

Did they tell you?
Did they tell you the news yet?
There is a change of season.
A change in the decade,
colors in the sky.
People too, are turning red
and white, and dead.
There is light in the sky
but it is not of the stars,
but more of the scars
which are borne by the earth-
this green planet upon which we live.
This beautiful scarred planet of life.
Yes, a change of season
that leaves the icy mountains
and is riding down the wind.
It loves to chase and scatter the hopes we have built
in the stagnant air.
Thirst slowly drives us mad
as the fires of humanity
are extinguished and driven down;
the last portraits of empire
slowly fade away.
Here I am walking
from one room to another
in the care of myself or another.
I seem to exist
for a fraction of a second,
a flutter of a leaf,
a sheaf of candle flame
that is so slowly falling
to the ground,
to settle among the other leaves
of passing seasons.
There is a change of season,
did you hear?
And people are changing-
red, white ... and blue.
There is a place where these colors paint the sky with beauty
An overflowing of paint
upon fresh young flesh
vibrating and alive,
and shining with all the colors of the earth.
These are the children our race
Standing among the reds and browns of fallen leaves
and dirt.
These are the painted children
who are rising up among the ashes of our fire
To stand like rainbow silhouettes, against the sunset.
These are the winged children
who take flight
upon the driving winds of change
These are the gold and silver
the light and shadow
the sunshine and stone
of the future.
These are the children
that reach beyond this black block of time
that step through the waterfall of age
and fall of autumn leaves.
These are the children
of the seasons
And the light of the world.
4th Dec. 09

Hunkerville

Another day in Hunkerville
A place where men slump
and feet bump each other down the path to home
But the Sun still shines
like in the days of the young.
And occasionally the men
even have a heart to dance,
jiggle and juggle
have a bit of fun,
And then there are the rainy days
when the air frizzes up
and cranky turns crikey
and there's a little twist to the tale...
Hunkerville is weight
on the shoulders, even the lungs,
a bit of silence, stuffiness, coughing.
Where the mist plays with the sunrise
before it reaches the ground.
But oh, it still lights up their eyes
When they look up to see the morning sky!
Men don't go slow in Hunkerville
The world just goes slower for them.
There's no reason to die in Hunkerville
where the men stumble down their paths to home.
It's just a place to be
when the cloudy days are hunkering down
for the season.
Love is a reason to sing
in Hunkerville
And talking is a 'take it or leave it' deal
There are people there
who don't know where they came from
and are trying to find a reason to be there
But Hunkerville is a place to be
when you need a safe place to be for a while
Without any reason at all.
Hunkerville is not a question.

Hunkerville is a season
A walk down a muddy pathway
on a day when you've lost your balance
and people are a blur
as they walk by your place.
They don't stop for a glance at brown.
They are cool and cuddly
And sometimes they blink so slow
You get lost in the depth of their eyes.
They are beautiful between the falling leaves of fall.
All the colors
that come before white.
Hunkerville is walking on the right side of the road
and counting your footsteps.
Men count their footsteps in Hunkerville
till their boots are worn,
but they've lost count
plenty of times before.
There seems to be a sunset in Hunkerville
But no one knows the scheduled time
until it comes.
1st December 2009

Prisoner

Nothing can stop
the meeting
of angels.
Then fly on
through prison doors
To make homes in the heart
of our prisoner’s soul.
Prisoners- we have committed the crime
of silencing what you have said.
Our prisoner speaks
in the darkness of night,
among the bad dreams,
or memories of crime.
He speaks of innocence
like only the guilty can.
And, still, we listen
and we understand.
Though we are bound
to the seat of the soldiers
The prisoner stands like stone,
before the window.
Where a little light has entered,
To taunt the darkness of our eyes.
But we can see
the prisoner speak.
Angels ascending from the stone,
With the faces of children
who have gone.
With the faces of children
who have gone.
But the prisoner remembers them.
More than we.
Angels from heaven
or angels from hell,
bringing news,
And news, may be good
and terribly sad.
He knows the angels,
And sings to them
if they ask.
And angels meet
in the strains of his voice.
Nothing stops the meeting
of angels.

8th August 2009

The New Priyanka

The new Priyanka
walking around the neighborhood
with a green painter's hat
over her eyes
and earphones of an iPod
in her ears,
a jhola from Jerusalem
hanging on her shoulder,
knee length navy blue shorts,
with her hands fidgeting
with the penny in her pocket,
under a casual chocolate-brown t-shirt
and the emblem- ‘Hang loose’
dark blue, coming apart:-
A plain silver ring
On the strength finger
of her left hand,
picked up from the dust
of the Ghats;
As she walks to the rhythm
of the music and the cars;
Watching the hills in the distance
covered in trees and golden grass.
Staring at the blue blue sky
as if it is
her natural contestant.
Her eyes speaking
to that sky- 'Fine, you want to play this game with me...
Then here I am, waiting,
Here I am
And there you are...
I'm waiting."
And God stares back down
at this little girl,
Nodding at the blacks,
Nodding at the whites
Nodding at the Mexicans
A green glass Cross hangs
from the sacred red thread on her neck,
Hidden underneath the brown,
where only the Sky can see it.
Wondering if that car will hit her.
Wondering if God will take her now.
Wondering if she'll have to see Papa next week.
Wondering if she will weigh 2 more pounds tomorrow.
Wondering if this is how life goes.
Now, in an agreement with the Sky
A new Identity has been established
She is free to exist
in the form she was born
Free to face the world
Free to question without having an answer
She can now walk the streets
with a new name to hold.
A new cause to exist.
A new reason to be.
Smiling at purple flowers
So simply in bloom
She swings around to say goodbye.
She walks like she is lost
But at least she's still walking,
with a light white rose
in her hand.
She is not new,
she is not old
She just dropped out of the sky
And there
she is.

Obvious

That is enough to speak of for now.
A hope for tomorrow.
And a love of today.
Is all you need
to fall a asleep on a night,
where nothing is different
from the day before.
Why do we happen to search for those faces of yesterday
when they don’t even exist in the people of today?
People stare at eachother
for an awful long time.
God knows what they see.
A pot is the same,
whatever it holds.
Mine holds quicksand,
and flowers are growing from it.
I’m supposed to pick the weeds,
I might do it tomorrow,
When I find them.
Would you like to be back in yesterday?
I’ll meet you there if you want.
We can talk about what happened
today.
And remember the things
that didn’t really happen,
when I was three.
I’m sure we’ll know the answer
to the question I’m asking you now
about the color of the sky,
when you knew the God that hid there.
Mine was hiding
inside me.
And now I’m walking
to the beat of that new song
they stuck on the radio
last week.
I’m sure there was some subtle meaning
to what it said.
But maybe it was a bit more obvious
than I had believed.

Priyanka
2 August 2009

Witness

The pain of dark moments
in our past
haunt us between
the blinks of our eyes.
We turn around in our beds
To see them lunging at us
like dark monsters.
For us
these monsters come
and hunt.
The burden of fear
slows a man down
like nothing else can;
So we hold back from the future
While we’re running
from the past.
This is the curse
of evil moments,
to which we have been
even just witnesses to.
Witness Alone.
Sometimes this
is not enough to save a man
from the burden of guilt
for the crimes that are committed
on this earth.

Priyanka
30 July 2009

Survival

Dying
Letting be
what is, I am hanging
by a tree.
Life twists me
and shakes me
It wants me to scream,
So I scream out loud
for the mountains to hear
But feel nothing.
I am singing
through the winds
Breathing
is all that is left
to my heart
so I am breathing in every hope
and breathing out every thought
and leaving nothing
for my stomach to digest;
My heart is beating
like a slow poison-
and the days are passing
through a bus window
to some other place …
But nothing can take me away;
I am not going
anywhere.

Priyanka
18th Feb. 2009

Suicide

Falling through the curtains of water to a pool
thousand feet below . . -
I see it in the fishes eyes
the redness of change, perhaps shock
before the splash
of cold ending
that will be mine,
hopefully before
I ever feel I need it
I’m breathing
Stopping
Screaming
as loud as it goes
as far as the sky
I’m sending out
nothing more
than a wave.

Priyanka
31 Jan. 2009

Leaving

I say to the sun
as it runs me by
if it will stay
to say goodbye.
'Oh no, I never do.
Because I am a flame
And I ride by round and round
blazing through the stars
You see me
when you're eyes
are open
looking for a ride
to the skies.'
So I said yes.
I see you coming; I see you going
I will be there
at the neck of the next wind,
and follow the flame
of your ruthless eyes
but for now,
I will say it for you
Good Bye.

P.L. Rao
1st Feb. 2009

Hopes

Everything changes
and the truth turns away
to protect those little dreams
from the touch of the world
To let them be
as there are meant to be
at peace, complete
in silence
For them to exist
as all of them have,
in the hold of the universe
rotating, revolving
still,
like the stars,
dancing, spinning
turning
laughing
playing,
each in her own place,
in the universe.
Here we are.
Priyanka
26th March 2009

Mantra

Bless those eyes
Bless that heart
Bless the breathing
Bless the art
Cover those eyes
Cover that heart
Open the breathing
Soften the art.
Stop the coughing
Stop the cheering
Stop the choking
Start the breathing
Soften the stone
It can’t stop seething
with utter cold hardness
with snake-cold kneading
Temper the leather
Temper the wood
Temper the air
which comes in as my food
Remove the bitter
destructive question
Remove the lying
betraying digestion
of how things are.
Beyond the mind
past the inverted
colored reflection
Past the lens
Past the protection
The truth of nature
free of dissection
Let her breathing
come in through the waves
and the shuddering shivering
wind in the trees.
Stop the cold
Stop the machine
Stop the harsh voice
Its only a dream
Let there be sunlight
Let there be motion
Let there be breathing
Through all my devotion
Let there be truth
Let there be freedom
Let there be peace
Like a summer’s hot ocean
With burning gold waves
and the vaporous air
rising softly
to the blistering sun
casting reflections
casting illusions
forgetting reasons
untying nooses.
Living and dying
right under the sea
Carry me to lightness
O let me be free.

Question

I see your words
and see they are true
but for you.
Question now,
question everything,
question the names
you seem to have given.
For as I never knew
You must again not know
As the elements twist,
We must let go,
lest an Unconditioning
become a Reconditioning

In words I play,
a game I don't know,
and in silence I watch
paintings of my life
projected from the eyes
of people I know.
They don't matter,
any more
than raindrops in the leaves.

Looking forward
to the next story,
leaves your eyes unfocused
At a twisted dimension of space and time,
far away, as a dream
is our vision of the future;
Yet those dreams are not
events of the future,
only happening
in the now.

Looking back
Is seeing the fallen leaves
Of a newly blooming tree,
Is the watching of a film
That is playing in the back of our minds
Our only true hint of the way
Of the present, and what is to come.
And yet, is gone.

P.L.Rao
20th April 2009

Universe

O Yesu
the breathing
in and out
of the layers of atmosphere
the heat the dust,
the cold the damp,
the green the red,
Through our bodies
as if we are a part
of it all
And to know, somehow
that we are.
The vastness of every thought
of every image,
every movement
every sound
flows so swiftly past,
That is barely has time
to leave an echo
behind.
And the pounding of my heart
racing in the beauty,
So many gifts
You have set upon me,
the images cast forth
like the rising Sun
for all to see.
And how much I want
to be the drum
upon which are beat
those eternal rhythms of celestial madness
and fire.
To fly on the waves
of that glorious sea.
To give these images
to the ravaged store
of ink and paper,
Lying in the vast open arms
of age old History. .
O if only you could let me be
a carrier of this legacy,
to walk upon the garden lanes
and trim and water
the growing trees,
which grow so big
and wise and old
whole and complete
and free
and happy.

P.l. Rao
10th April 09

To Get Beyond

You don't have to give.
It will get taken from you
The amount that is gone
will always remain
in the air, like the fog
of a dried up ocean
So breathe
breathe it in,
breathe again, and let it go
to a faraway place
just around the bend
which is waiting
without waiting
for you.

P.L.Rao
15th January 2009

Human

Light! It falls on me
It covers me in truth
But I block it with my hand
And think I cannot see.

I sit on heaven’s lawn
with flowers in my hand
I want to smell the scent of grace
But my sense of smell is gone.
жא☼Ж☼אж
-P.L.Rao
13th April 2006

Darkness Sweet

On and on
the waves of the sea
shine and shatter
before they are free

on and on
I'm swallowed under
the breathless merciless
pound of beauty

close my eyes,
the darkness is sweet
silence is sinking
through all that is me.


P.L.Rao
15th January 2009

Sleep

I am so tired
Physically
But that's about all
that's left of me,
except for my heart;
Its still beating wild
and fast and distracted,
like the eyes of a child
Perhaps the exhaustion
is sent to slow down
the flying thoughts
and bring me around-
Back to the constant
thrum of being.
Down to the softness;
calm the seething
Of the fire and the flames
inside the heart.
Burning up names
like the ancient dragon's art.
Folding my wings
I am ready to fly
Death comes slowly
With peace, and a sigh.

Priyanka Rao
12th March '09

To be

To be a poet
is to see through the painting
of your eyes
and to hear
through the poetry
of your ears
and to sing the songs
of your heart

Priyanka
January 26th '09

The Flood of the Forest

The trees crash down
upon the others
crawling with creatures
of teeth and feathers

Lightning attacks
like angry sunlight
tearing at the leaves
with ravenous appetite

Insects scuttle
among the chaos
fear and greed
fill their brain mass

The rainwater’s strength
saturates the skin
numbness fills
the bodies within

The wet wood’s pungence
fills frozen nostrils
mixed with the coldness
of the deepest evils

The thunder’s booms
Are buried by rustling
of a thousand leaves
thrashing and shaking

White light glows
upon the air
shadows dueling
everywhere

The trees that shake
among the dead
stand on to challenge
what next the storm bred

Terrible winds
clawed at the branches
hurling them down
as terrible lances

Flying paws
of some powerful creature
drowned by the crash
of a falling trees power

The rushing of leaves
the booming of thunder
the crashing of trees
falling asunder

creaking of trunks
moaning of lumber
howling of wind
shrieking its hunger

Trapped she was
in the flood of the forest
witness was she to war of the bravest . . .

Her prison of trees
lay unheeded
enraptured was she
by this War unabated

Dreadful it was
raging about her
yet in it she saw
terrible beauty alive in the horror

All of those people
dancing in the Sun
who would ever know
when it had begun?

No one would know
when it was won
No one would know
when this epic was done

In a War without hatred
but only fear
In a War that only changes
the soul with an ear.

Escape was estranged
this was the place
death was accepted
on her intoxicated face

But could she leave
this tale untold?
To all the world
would it never unfold?
* * *
Once upon
A winter’s day
Ignorant footsteps
tread light and gay

Unaware
of the terrific past,
When something of interest
was seen as he passed-

Under the ferns
upon the moss
lay a page
runes running across

A knee did bend
a hand reached out
to read the letters
to yet find out . . .

A sudden wind
rushed into the light,
as if a ghost
of that terrible night.

Across the page
A story lived
The Flood of the Forest
was relived.

And finally came
the ending lines
faded
but lasting through all times

‘I’ve used my ink
I’ve done my duty
Tribute has been paid
to this torrent of beauty.’
P.L. Rao
17th October 2006

The Heart

You’re in the skies
your own life has made
you’re in the light
that cannot be weighed

The light that reflects
the light that spreads
the light that dances
through everyone’s heads

The light that glows
the light that dances
the light that knows
and through darkness prances

Alive and alight
like waters of the ocean
calm as a whole
but forever in motion.

Fantasies and dreams
evolve in this motion
bubbling like the surface
of some wonderful potion

Dreams of adventure
waves of voices
currents of drama
splashes of rejoices

Reflections of romance
Depths of affection
droplets of laughter
oaths of protection

Torrents of struggling
Storms of strength
Winds of rage
But for love with all faith.

God is life
quivering with emotion
sure as the Sun
and as young as an ocean.

Let me dive
into your sea
sink in your love
yet still stay me.

By P.L.Rao
1st October 2006

Wordeath

The words I feel
are pressed into my skin
like red hot iron
Branded upon
my arm, my shoulder
my throat
my tongue
fenced around my lungs
Every feeling
is shredded through a comb
of thoughts and facts
and I am a tree
with these shredded leaves
fluttering in the wind
but my roots are deep
In the earth
and my branches
are way up high
and my thoughts are silent
and I open my throat
but no words are there
Slowly I’m finding myself
in a wordless world
with only feelings
twisting feelings
in my gut
and I feel full
As though I have
all the food
I’ll ever need
in my stomach
and I know
I’ve found
myself
In the silent
tangible gullies
of being
who I am.
P.L.Rao
17th Feb. 2009

Glade

I love the dawn: there’s a fresh world
to see today
I love the quiet of a well
below the sunlight’s fray;
I love a home where everything else
is a world away . . .

I love the wild of a traveler’s road
and to hear the people of life’s every mold;
to see the pages of cultures unfold.

I love to see a plot at play-
From dawn to dusk; from gray to gay,
On books and tales, I love to prey.

I love these colors, deep and bold
I love to hide when its dark and cold,
I’ll love the world till I grow old . . .
Though, if asked why, I couldn't say.

жא☼Ж☼אж
-P.L.Rao

6th July 2008

Beauty Cage

My life still swells and falls
like the surface of the sea
And a thousand frothy bubbles burst
and yet somehow capture me.
жא☼Ж☼אж
-P.L.Rao
14th August 2007

If only

If only
If only
I could speak to time
I’m sure she would listen
to my pleading

If only
If only
I could show her my thoughts
I know she would
stop her speeding.

If only
If only
I could wear her down
stubborn though she may be
How popular she could be,

If only
If only
for a moment in time;
If only
If only
She waited for me.

P.L.Rao

Ambitious

A season ends
with murk and blood
Its time to pull myself up from the mud.

I feel fresh, I feel full
Of whirring thoughts, on which to mull
I step onto the window sill
And see the sunrise, misty but full.

I want to dive
from window to world
And touch the currents
of the sea
I want to dive
from the sky, unfurled
and feel it flowing
over me.

Can I face that wrenching cold
and reach out to the sunlight's gold?
Do I do this on my own
Can I fight the currents hold?
I want to weave
from present and past
a binding golden tapestry
I want to weave
something to last
throughout the stony century

O, but take these questions from me now
I never wanted to know how
to live an entire life alone
I just want to find a home
somehow

I want to lock
windows and doors
in the house surrounding me
I want to lock out
all the roars
of all the thoughts attacking me

I want a warming hand to hold
I want to paint the sky with gold
I want some love to share with you
I want this life to stay unsold

I want to live
from heat to pain
a life with love
but still so free
I want to live
through every rain
with the will to live
and a smile
that is me.

Plr

13th Dec. 09

Railroad Tracks

Chained by my wrists
to a block of stone
that is sinking in the sand
like a melting bone
Hardness of heart
constricts the breath
Solid as stone
Static as death

It’s hard to breathe
this dusty darkness
Am I full of emotion
or simply heartless?

The restless demon
calls this suffocation
Just stop- don't give
an explanation
The air in my lungs
an expanding load
A violent conclusion
-when I explode.
So foggy my mind
So full of the cold
So soft and grey
like I might have been told.

Kill me this way
by blocking me up
the phone is ringing
but I can't pick it up

I hear you're voice
From the vibrating phone
Scratching my nerves
with your endless drone

I'm folded and packed
into your suitcase
and left on the desk
along with your shoelace

The roof falls down
I fall to the floor
I slip down the stairs
but just miss the door.

I look up the stairs
coming down is a train
the railroad tracks
are slippery with rain
they are full of cracks
I might slip through
I want to be tied down
And broken anew
With hammers and picks
And the sweat from their backs
Till I sizzle and fly
from the railroad tracks.

Priyanka Rao
3rd Feb. ‘09.

Elements

So much to say
Again.
But the words are not
the property of
those layering thoughts
But currents
flying from my being
sparkling with electricity
like they do
when I am
fully breathing
Such a game
Is being played
within me
without me
the elements are moving
so fast, so slow
in such wild rapture
through the universe-
of the universe
growing pulsing
shifting
and in it here we are
the beings
twisting into layers
of earth, of fire
shifting fading
shining flying
flowing through
flowing with
flowing on
finding eachother
finding ourselves
finding that
we are all
of one
and the same.
In the elements
we move
lose eachother
lose ourselves
lose the light
for in it
we are
we are
we are
and we grow
layers and layers
the thoughts rise
and the thoughts fall about us
like rain, like floods
and we are swimming
we are sinking
we are rising
we are floating
and the elements bite us
fire water air
eating through our being
braiding our veins
weaving our muscles
binding our bones
burning our blood
electricity in our nerves
waving
We come
to eachother
we touch
we pull eachother
from the plug
of that name
and we are
breathing
we are burning
we are finding something
of ourselves
oneself
before the birth
after the death
I am there
We are there
in the heart
the heart
the heart
is overflowing
with the red hot blood
with the love
with the life
and the thoughts
are poring over like sand
and the elements are cracking
and crackling
and burning through the space
like burning moss
like moss on fire
through the night
through the light
earth, water, fire
air, space
Love
25th Feb 2009

Silent Life’s Child

Visiting a friends house, I was left alone with a little girl and a newborn child, nearly three weeks old who was born deformed. Seeing the child I felt this poem, and so, here it is.

His eyes moved
vaguely, across the roof;
The glaring white light,
like he doesn't belong here
a graceful dolphin,
left on land
Silent as a fish
You can see he is looking
for an ally
which I might have been…
But cannot be
And this is his world
Alone and searching
Smaller than a doll
Stiff and unshapely
Lifted and jostled
by no mother, but a girl
in search of a playmate
Lost in her imaginary world
with the silent child
He is caught is a heartless experiment
of the restless world
Another unfortunate growth
of twisted DNA
Holding her doll
in her arms
clueless to the slight
of its existence.
I start at the thought
that it is meant to be alive…
The adults
the parents
are conspicuously absent,
Disassociating from
those pitiful tiny hands
Letting him live or die alone
in the arms of an innocent
lonely young girl
Wanting only to be a mother and child
I place my hand
upon his chest
and feel the frantic
beating of his heart
As though beneath
those silent eyes
a vigorous schemer
is fighting for life
inside the body
of this silent unmoving
Child of life.
Priyanka Rao

6th Feb. 09.

Naked

So, you're taking the credit?
Take all you want
I don't need it.
Take from me
these flowing clothes
Tear them from
my burning skin
All you need
To cover the world
Gift-wrapped for another soul
To sleep in
and dream their restless dreams.
I'm going to an appointment with stars
And I'll bring them with me
when I swim back
through the ocean
of twisting emotions
And light the trees
with starlight
so the kings and queens
can find their way
through the gardens
to pick the fruits
of human dreams
and chat with the fairies
Till its time to go home
and sing the gravitational
songs of the wind,
And wake up the adventurers
Tempted with a breathe of mountain spices
before they disappear
with the tides
of the blue blue sea.
Priyanka
24th January 2009

Illusion

Beauty, o!

You treacherous thing

I live for you

You are my being

But I’m peeling away

like cloth from a wall

catching the winds to

abort my fall

Bondage to a wound

I am coming away

from drying blood

and flesh in decay

Coming to float

on the tips of a pond

fresh chill of the water

then I’m floating beyond

Falling away

what a beautiful thing!

the scraps coming loose

and into nothing . . .

The buzzing of a fly

or perhaps it is crying-

the screaming of my heart

-it still thinks this is dying

And perhaps it is

I wouldn’t know

I’ve been here too long

Its time to let go

A storm seems to follow

As I’m flying away

Chasing me down

I’m turning to clay

I’m standing underwater

Before a full jury

‘Here they are- you’re rights and duties,

Get along now, we’re all in a hurry. '

Oh, what in the world?

I was flying through space

‘No, no,’ they assure me

‘now put on your face.’

So I pull on with work

Now life is so heavy

I look for strength

But I’m all cut free

All the holds are gone

where they used to be

I let go of the past,

Now there’s nothing left of me.

Its all a cheat

Its never fair

beautiful fabric of being-

my life’s just a tear.

I scream

I want to die

would it get me anywhere?

I can’t even try

'Let go, let go'

they stare at me

I’ve nothing to hold

except this key

Ah, but see me scream

love my tears

O trap of lies-

you feed me fears

You tear me from the wall

shred by shred

Not again, no-

I wish I were dead

Tearing burning

through the seams

You’re turning out the lights

in all of my dreams

I’m falling falling

falling free . . .

Isn’t this once

where I wanted to be . . .?

P.L.Rao

14th January 2009

Suddenly I feel as if I am bathed in sunlight and I realize that this is the feeling I have been longing for all these days, shivering in the sun. But sometimes sunlight can't do it, and sometimes something else can.
Sometimes the people we most want to avoid talking to can give us what we need.
Sometimes places we never want to go to can give us a new home to be at.
Sometimes things we hide from things which are really things we want most.
So how can we judge what is what and where to find it?
We sometimes have to just go to dark places and speak to ridiculous people to find what it is we really need. We can't hold on to things we once loved and places that were once home. We have to let it all go and be ready for hope from any quarter, and see a home in any place.
Sometimes we don't see the lesson being given to us. But the things which will hit us, the things we really learn and never forget will reach us, and in the end we will know what we need know; understand what we need to.

Veiled

Storm of my life
is woven with strife,
An obstacle course
which is carrying me by force.

I’ve lost all track
They call me black
Lies they have built
All fill me with guilt

But I don't really care
‘cause you are there
to keep out that rain
of teary pain.

-P.L.Rao
21st February 2006