Stairway to heaven...

The house had the power to crush anybody who was careless enough to cross the threshold ignoring the warning words of the wise man who spent a moment there centuries back.  Every moment spent inside the rooms made me shrink more and more until after some days I would become the invisible ghost roaming around the cold chambers of this dilapidated place.
The inhabitants of the house were already accustomed to its coldness, they became blind and numb with their pointless pride centuries ago. Pride that allowed them to raise their voice at people around whenever they wanted to parade with the magnificence of their lineage displayed in their high pitched voices, oblivious of the fact that each day made them sink more and more into a pile of slimy trash that was omnipresent around the house.
They spoke with words devoid of meaning. Why did they speak at all? They spoke using nouns, verbs, pronouns and adjectives but they spoke of nothing and each minute made me fly away towards those green lands of my imagination. But the house kept waiting to catch me in its claws and turn me into a machine that would politely serve the society without questioning its confusing values, hypocritical ways and carnivorous desires. The rooms were eager to see me as their prey and I knew that I need to run away like I used to do in a recurring nightmare of my childhood dreams. I was thin like a single strand of hair and had to run away from that huge military boot with sharp nails that tried to snap at me with every step.
I run... and I saw staircase leading me up towards the roof, towards the sky, towards the air...
It was the whole different world up there... A tiny room with hundreds of words scattered on pages of books that nobody opened for decades. The words describing all those amazing worlds so remote from flat tablets with pictures dancing at the touch of a thumb. The words that smelt of rain and fire, the words that had the colour of sweat of those who once worked with those huge printing machines pouring out entire universes out of their clenched jaws.
There was the sky and the orange of the sunset on the horizon and I could feel how my shoulders began to unwind...
And then they started coming one by one, or in groups or pairs. Two tiny birds with heads more black than coal, a flock of pigeons flying above my head, squirrels racing on the branch of the tree in a near by garden, and then... when I was about to turn a pair of parrots flew in front of me. They made a nest in an empty building opposite. They were there.... and it was their presence that made me smile. They were me and I was them... A green parrot...

Writings from a dead house...

The face of the house was as depressing as the ghosts of people who pretended to be living inside. Even the bushes that were to decorate the gate had withered many years back, the fact that had never been noticed by the inhabitants of the mansion.
They themselves were more like objects placed in various corners of the house and I wondered if they ever truly managed to acknowledge each other's presence. They were like plastic chairs with a rope attached to one of the legs to prevent anybody from taking them away from the long hall that was used as a dining room. But who would take any of them, since their souls were heavy as stones which made them immobile, frozen cold stones that knew how to eat, how to count, how to speak in lofty words, but did not know how to light the fire in the heart of that house. The only sparks of warm touch could be felt when sitting next to an old woman trapped in her own incapacitated body. A prisoner of old age.
There was something sinister about this house and their inhabitants, something that made me cautious and restless. The fear of being tied up with a long piece of rope and tied to one of the tables and never be able to see the sun again.
They did not need the sun. They did not need the sky, and they did not need green trees. Did they know about the words that the trees tell if only you want to listen? Did they know about the touch of the wind? Did they know about all those magic worlds that existed inside the bodies of all living creatures?
Every minute spent here made me realise that I do not belong to this place. And never will.  Every moment made me think about that other house that I see every day in my imagination.
A house with hundreds palm trees around. Parrots, squirrels, cats, and butterflies. It is not a big house. It has 3 steps and a threshold from which you can see the stars and the moon while drinking tea in the evening. The windows are open and sometimes you meet an unexpected visitor that greets you with a friendly meow or flies above your head. The smell of the flowers at night. The chirping of the birds in the morning. A mattress in one corner on the floor. A desk by the window. A cat in my lap. Colourful walls. Books and words. Warmth of human touch. And tea.
A decision has been made. I felt the wind on my face... That same wind that spoke to me when I stood on a bare mountain top with only skeletons of animals as my companions. It whispered in my ears the words of generations that lived in the valley. And I gave it the scream of my fears, guilt and desires. The wind that spoke to me at night when I slept in Chabutra and my soul was born again to become a bird. The wind that spoke to me now... The call of the wind that whispers into my ear...
I am coming. Green parrot. I am the child of the wind... I belong to the land of green. I belong to life. And I will live.

Go away I say...

I saw your concrete towers of silence stretch their blind hands to pierce the blue sea of the sky. A scratch of greed on the face of infinity. The touch of your hands that burns my body as you embrace me at a juncture of false affection.
I despise your stomach bulging with the squashed pieces of colourful papers that you stuff so neatly into your  leather wallet.
I despise your gigantic tv screen that blinds your eyes and deafens your senses so that you could become a puppet with strings attached to those white gloves of corporate hands. Nod your head as they tell you... tink tonk, tink tonk, tink tonk...
I despise her plastic body that she puts on sale for those blind eyes with saliva rolling down the cheeks since they lost the last tears while  repaying credit for those shiny slim galaxy phones held in their numb hands. Fingers dancing on cold plastic screens in a futile attempt to find warmth of a human body that they buried under the layers of plastic bags distributed by the food companies selling food devoid of any spice to cater for the foreign tastes.
I despise your walls and borders dividing my body into mine and theirs, self and other, white and black, black and brown, brown and yellow, yellow and white.
I despise you for selling your priceless dream for a penny so that you could fit into the perfect picture on the cover of a magazine with hundreds of blank pages inside.

Go away I say... Go away from my green dreams of flying high in the sky. I want the sky and not your cement uniforms of perfect greyness which you use to paint the horizon.
Go away... or else one day when your stomach fills up with the air of your pride and lifts you up towards the sky I will pierce it with an arrow of my rage. And I will laugh... And that laughter will kill you.
Go away with your false promises of comfort and progress. My comfort is the bruised face of the soil under my feet and even if I am to remain the last tree in this universe I will remain one... I will be, I will survive, and I will live and one day I will find what you stopped searching for long time back... The mystery of being alive...
 You would have gone long time dead by then...
I do not have the capacity to resurrect,and  neither does he.

Present moment.

It used to be a land of green memories that I wanted to keep in a locket. Fingers playing with time. Past around my neck.
As I travel through these lands of green I think of you there on the other side of the horizon. Can you hear me now? Can you feel my breath so alive travelling towards your feet and whispering that I understand. Your patchwork face turns towards me with every step I take. The skin of brown soil and your bare feet so connected to this land that sometimes I wonder if it is you who stamps on it or is it the earth that chose to support you in every step you take so that you could walk for thousand miles until you become one with the ground beneath your feet. I bath in the depth of your eyes that do not see me. Those eyes that look so far away across time... To win with time or to lose with it. You cannot win from it eternity, you can only prolong the anticipation of loss, and once you loose I will stand on the threshold night after night to light a lamp so that you could find your way back in the dark.
I thought I could keep those moments forever. I would collect green leaves to enjoy them secretly when you would walk across the desert searching for life. I would run towards you to give you the touch of their green... but they turned brown with time...  Green lives only in the present. It can not be stored for future generations.
Love exists only in the present moment. Not before, not later... only now....
Can you feel my voice? Can you touch the wind of my wings? Can you see the parrot sitting silently by the window as you busy yourself with words that brought me here. It is now. It is green.

Falling through the clouds...

Every day I fall more and more inside myself escaping from the world I can no longer comprehend. Sometimes I catch myself travelling so deep that I get scared if I would remember the way back to that reality of objects with sharp edges, bright pictures that are so catchy to the eyes but can not warm your soul, traders selling momentary pleasures and people buying those moments of numbness to cover their lifeless skeletons with a tiny cloth of forgetfulness.

I am above the clouds and can almost feel their soft touch against my cheek. Their soft bed that allows me to fall back gently with my eyes closed and float somewhere in the sky. The touch of a lover that would make your whole body tremble with awareness of that space in between the shoulders. The place where love hides. The place where you feel those tiny needles of joy pierce your skin to become threads sewing both of us together into one body with our minds freely wandering inside each other's souls.

I once was afraid of flying, but now flying is what makes me feel closer to myself. Weightlessness. I used to be able to fly as a child. I would lie down in my grandmothers bed and feel how my being evaporates from inside my body. I could see the room underneath and then transport myself towards golden fields and green trees. Red squirrels with their magnificent tails.

I want to be able to fly again. I'm still scared of falling down to the ground of greyness. I only want to look up at this blue eternity from where there is no return.

The fear of the unknown is gone. Readiness and awareness.

When I was a child I used to imagine that there are rivers and fields inside my body. Rivers of veins that bring the blood of water to those thirsty beings living on their banks. The whole of universe enclosed inside my existence, just like I am one tiny living cell inside that vast living body called the universe.

Those clouds beneath... So white in their purity, so soft in their touch, so inviting to just float aimlessly in the sky... But are they real? Would they have the courage to catch me and carry with them on this endless journey? Or would they disperse in their cowardice to let me fall to the ground where my head would burst into thousands of pieces.

The bird at the window... Does it know the answer? And if it does then what the question would be?

Claimer...

If you think that the person behind these words is trying to say something to you, you are absolutely right.
If you think that the words you read here are a reflection of your own self, you are right.
If you think that any events and characters described here bare the resemblance with your own life, you are more than right.
The person who was writing on this blog till 2012 does not exist anymore. But still it's good to keep her writings as an archive for future generations...

Do you know this feeling...

Do you know this feeling when you are too dark to be treated like a swan and not dark enough to be treated like a crow? I do.
Do you know this feeling when you want to fly high up there in the sky but a metal chain prevents you from spreading the wings? I do.
Do you know this feeling when the world around you seems so grey and full of cruelty that you wish it could  disappear, even if only for a moment? I do.
Do you know this feeling when you try to lock all your bad memories in a metal trunk and throw the key away into the ocean, but they still come back to you night after night and sometimes you wake yourself up with your own scream? I do.
Do you know this feeling when you want those thousands of rivers of words you have inside to flow next to his feet but you remain silent until the marks of his feet are long time gone? I do.
Do you know this feeling when you can not recognize your own face in the mirror because it is so far away from all those words, paintings and feelings that you carry inside? I do.
Do you know this feeling when you look at a 5 year old on the metro train and keep wondering if he also had such huge eyes when he was a child?  I do.
Do you know this feeling when you want to put your hands inside things, words, colours so deep that you could touch their invisible essence? I do.
Do you know this feeling when as a 6 year old you used to lie on your grandmother's bed and you could feel your soul drifting out of your body and floating somewhere under the ceiling? I do.
Do you know this feeling when your long cherished dream is shattered with a one simple "no"? I do.
Do you know this feeling when you bang your head against the walls of dark room every single day? I do.
Do you know this feeling when I keep searching for you and in all my helplessness shout "LIVE! LIVE! LIVE"...