The Burden of Nothing

 
Photograph by Ana Santos

 There are times when a body is so tired that even the mind feels its burden. The vitals that ought to function do so only as to assure that the basest form of survival is met. That the heart beats and the lungs take and give what they ought. There is no thought given to thought so long as this moment indulges the next. And time becomes a mere sound, a formation of the lips, a nuisance utterance – of no matter, no consequence, no meaning.

 

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

Nothing More

Photograph by Lumase

“Perhaps sometimes life shows you a side of itself which leaves you with nothing more to say.”

He said.

“Nothing more, never.”

- Alessandro Baricco (Silk p. 52)

The Sight of Rain

 

Photograph by ~~Mandana~~

 

When it rains and the earth is in its dark mood as today I begin to feel my soul lighten. I have forgone the umbrella just to feel the droplets on my face. They are ticklish and cold. And you can see them wetting this page. They covered my glasses so I see through a fog of rain.

I see through rain.

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

Between Here & The Horizon

Photograph by Ilina S.

“He could make out Hara Kei’s palace on the far side of the village, barely larger than the other houses, but surrounded by huge cedars that protected its solitude. Herve Joncour continued to look at it, as though there stood nothing else between here and the horizon. Thus he saw,
finally,
suddenly,
the sky above the palace spotted with thousands of birds in flight, as though they had exploded from the earth, birds of every kind, flying all over the place in frantic terror, singing and crying, an explosive fireworks of wings, clouds of colour shot against the light, sounds of terror, music in flight, fleeing through the sky.
Herve Joncour smiled.”

- Alessandro Baricco (Silk, p. 43)

Give me…

Photograph by sam_samantha

 

give me light
if it be darkness illuminated
give me then darkness
if darkness be thy sight
give me thy vision
if a vision be that of beauty
give me then the world in glory
if glory be a tune of stillness
give me then the raising of the early dawn
and if there be nothing for you to give me
give me then the peace of nothing

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

Day Dreamers

Photograph by  carf

 

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.

-Thomas Edward Lawrence

Ignorance

The tree of ignorance! by denis collette

Where have we gone, what have we become? Where has our love for humanity gone? The respect of religion, thought, and purity, way has it been dissipating? Have we been so washed out, so overwhelmed by the information we receive that we cannot feel the authenticity of bare faith? Where has our ability to distinguish natural from manmade gone? We grow, and nature grows, yet which one will wither away first? Nations created, world conquered, we have grasped the intellect of all, yet grasp a fistful of sand and rub it against your bare chest – can you feel the heartbeat in the particles from which you’ve emerged? It lives forever and more, and we, we are in this moment, and in another moment we will be no more.

Why cannot we live so free of “facts” as we were born, of what we think we know - and yet do we think, clearly, freely on our own? What thought is our own, what fact have we learned ourselves – experienced? We are ignorant with information, ignorant with facts. We know yet don’t feel, we speak yet don’t understand. Our ignorant genius has polluted religion, thought, and purity – we have changed and warped from natural to manmade, and yet who is it, what is it that we point our finger at?

A blind, veiled reflection perhaps…

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

Paths Unknown

 Photographed by ZoofyTheJinx

 

 For paths that know not their destination

I tread upon them, with them on their journey.

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

 

Spring

Photograph by james m

For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the seasons of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

- A.C. (Algernon Charles) Swinburne (1837-1909)

Where I Lie

Photograph by Michael A. Blanchard

Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.

- John Clare

The Question of Fate

Photograph by pchweat

Are you not weak against it’s power? Helpless and trembling.

Weaving in and out spinning the cradle of life in its spindle. A thread that has been made and designed - ordained. Can you feel the turning, the wheel creaking with the weight, rusty from eternal age. No matter it’s burden it has kept it’s course. Never has it ceased. Never has it failed to deliver. Once spun and promised never has it been undone. Stronger than power and more powerful than might it is heedless allowing no escape, defeating all weapons. It sees no position, no height, no distance that it cannot conquer. Whether it be fear you tremble with or relief you sigh with it sees no difference. One is possessed utterly and thoroughly - ultimately possessed.

In such a state under it’s spell reality goes upon one path and fantasy upon another. Where and if they shall converge you shall not know, for you are on your own path. It has brought you here and here you shall dwell seeking path upon path, road upon road. Changed perhaps, perhaps renewed you have come to another journey than life. It had sought you and you have come, for it never has been denied nor shall it ever. All are bound upon their thread, their fate. And the fate of each is death. And yet, how have you met you fate, how have filled those vacant leafs? What have you written on the empty pages, blank and void? For fate has only ever written two words upon your book: Life and Death.

And so, what have you written?

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

My Solace

Photograh by Sergio_One

“By the forenoon’s light.
By the darkness of night.
Your Lord never left you, nor did He forget you.”

- Al-Quran (093: 000-011 Al-Duhaa)

Thoughts

Photograph by .ash

“We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.”

- Buddha

Experience of Peace

Photograph by Fran Barrero

Had you not known difficulty
you would not know tranquility
From the experience of one
comes the peace of the other

By RaatKiRanii (K.F.S)

6-Word Memoir

 Photograph by ~priyak~

I’ve been tagged by my good friend, Baekho to write a six-word memoir. This concept apparently came about due to Hemingway who summarized his own life in the following six words:

For Sale: Baby Shoes, never worn.

Personally, I’m not all too familiar with Hemingway and was at first confounded by his choice of words. Actually, truth by told I was confounded by this whole idea of summarizing one’s life in so short a manner. How could it be done? But as I see (since others have done so) and soon found out for myself this is not an impossible task. It is, however, quite difficult. One wants to be true to one’s life, to one’s self, however this may be very revealing – intimate even. I always knew that words carried great powers of all sorts still it was a pleasant surprise to realize that a simple set, a mere handful of words could represent one’s life so acutely.

So without further ado let me present the rules of the meme, which are:

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3. Link to the person who tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4. Tag five more blogs with links.
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

And my oh so short memoir:

Searching, seeking, progressing – wither to bloom.

For my own reasons I will not tag other members, however if anyone feels up to the task I invite anyone and everyone to participate and spread the word. Enjoy!

-Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

Ebb and Flow

Photograph by dotlyc

“Trust in that veiled hand, which leads
None by the path that he would go;
And always be for change prepared,
For the world’s law is ebb and flow.

- FROM THE ARABIC”

- Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell (North and South, p.124)

Two Decades … and two years

           Photograph by Perlette

Twenty-two years of life today and I wonder how have I reached this point. This point in which two decades have gone by, two decades of life, of breathing, of waking and sleeping, of wishing and dreaming, of joys and sorrows – two decades. It hardly seems real that such a long expanse of time should have gone by so quickly. That each year has left me without so much as a by your leave, hints perhaps, but left me so hastily it seems. Each year which has now accumulated to a little over two decades. My eyes see nothing changed, my world the same, ever more the same. And yet changed, everything has changed for I have changed. Physical change there has been but more than that the change of perspective. Seeing not with the eyes but implementing their power of sight in terms of the mind, heart, and soul. Each aspect deepening, growing, learning, feeling – in this respect these two decades have seen much change the eyes have missed.

Twenty-two years - an era at one point, and now I’ve reached it, spent a day in it and know it is but a peek through a barely cracked window.

I pray, Insha Allah, that I may be garced with a chance to open it all the way.

 

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)

Untitled

Photograph by deborah lattimore

Such chaos
Yet these lips are sealed
Such chaos
Yet you sit silent
Thine eyes must see some far off dream
To witness madness, madness!
Yet sit so serene

By RaatKiRanii (K.F.S)

Passages

Photograph by Ela48

“I used to think once that if I could have a day of doing nothing, to rest me – a day in some quiet place like that yo’ speak on – it would maybe set me up. But now I’ve had many days o’ idleness, and I’m just as weary o’ them as I was o’ my work. Sometimes I’m so tired out I think I cannot enjoy heaven without a piece of rest first. I’m rather afeared o’ going straight there without getting a good sleep in the grave to set me up.”

- Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell (North and South, p.101)

Bits of Fiction

*gocha*

Photograph by

 

There are scenes, images, tales that play themselves out in my mind. Unrelenting, heedless, sweeping in their pursuit to flow from the confines of the imagination to the scribbling stroke of the pen, to be laid out and manifested in words adding yet another element of life to its cycle. Where do they come from these tit-bits, these stories of the nameless real? They are conjured, related so closely to reality, from those surrounding the thinking, restless mind, faces of strangers, of each passing soul. Every expression, blank or animated narrating a tale drawing me in and I, so impulsively drawn as if pulled by a chain to guess and ponder at what these stories could be. Pictures take shape without effort or intention – coming to life, happening, as it were, just happening. Startling me to realize that I was gazing at a scene, a face before me which has taken a life of it’s own within me. They carry me away as if waves, at times smothering and pressing me deeper to drown, at times soothing and gentle tides leading to shores, but always carrying me away, my vivid imagination, my dark knight. And when I am sent back, cast away, dropped so unceremoniously upon the borders of my own life’s tale I return with such accounts that may bore the unhinged mind, come from here and there, and relate to none and all. Wanted at times, unwanted at others, ramblings of nothing these relation of reality… I return with bits of fiction

- Raatkiranii (K.F.S)