Pratik Mahajan

/reflections on everything and nothing

  • play

    December 28, 2024
  • surrender

    off course it will hurt
    your heart is not dead
    your soul breathes the light of the universe
    nothing is ever easy
    there are no perfect beings
    trees have crooked roots
    and even gods struggle
    but to continue
    living
    loving
    without hesitation
    just a chance that
    tomorrow can be better

    November 4, 2024
  • what you are

    to embrace
    the fleeting impermanence
    with a love so deep
    to make a way for us
    mountains will move
    blessed by the sun
    and sanctified by the moon
    we walk without fear
    we carry within us
    parts of each other
    wherever we go
    forever connected
    by the invisible threads of the cosmos
    may the sweet memories never fade
    forever etched into the invisible
    art lives eternally
    our hearts
    transparent
    guiding
    over distances infinite
    we trust without hesitation
    our souls dance in the temple of dreams
    the river heals without effort
    the wind is an old friend
    singing the melody of light
    diving into the valley
    of your soul vibration
    the tremors slowly
    dissipating onto the surface
    of presence
    effervescent
    never asking
    with a soft touch
    throbbing sensations
    arms relax
    gathering momentum
    at the speed of light

    stay put now dear
    nothing can take away from you
    what you are
    only obscurations and illusions
    scattered
    the ultimate remains unscathed
    even if the flame seems extinguished

    worry not
    as long as you are awake
    it is not possible
    to wither away.

    September 27, 2024
  • i am the way

    I am the sun
    and the moon
    the wind
    and the stars
    the mountains
    and the sea

    I am light
    and darkness
    I am everything and nothing
    everywhere and nowhere
    I am love
    inside and outside
    I am present
    and past
    I am the future
    I am time
    and space

    life and death
    eternal
    transient
    wild and free
    an image
    a feeling

    I am breath
    this body
    I am dust
    water and ice
    fire and ether
    I am earth
    I am sky
    I am the cold
    and the warmth

    I am dream
    I am reality.

    August 8, 2024
  • human

    having died a million times
    in a million ways

    every breath suffers
    with unbounded impressions
    broken
    burnt alive
    turned to ash
    and offered to the trees
    smothered at dawn
    cut into tiny pieces
    boiled in a cauldron
    fed to the vultures
    sacrificed by the gods
    hunted by the devil
    vampires have feasted upon my flesh
    my tongue pierced for pleasure of the sickness
    and my bones turned into sticks that beat the drums at dusk

    comatose for centuries
    wrapped in an unflinching grasp
    of demons and angels alike
    paralysed even to blink
    too weary to sing
    I can hardly move
    the heart beats at the speed of light
    thoughts murder me every fraction of a second
    There is nobody to hear my cry
    There is no love
    There is no peace
    There is no joy

    I have been cursed and
    my head slayed from every direction
    these wounds are so deep that even darkness does not reach
    there is no rest
    no escape
    there is no entertainment
    no music
    no taste
    no thing to touch
    no body to hold
    I feel empty
    I feel nothing

    shoulders drooping
    eaten by worries
    sinking lungs in the river of desperation
    wicked intentions
    sabotaging
    the very essence of life

    I dance till I fall
    when the moon is out
    till my feet are numb
    and my brain has been dislodged
    taken over by the invisible
    I remember
    I am born
    again
    and
    again
    and
    again
    every moment
    a century
    every breath
    endless

    every day
    a new world

    I am eternal
    infinite
    multi-dimensional
    magician
    healer
    warrior
    king
    god

    here in the centre of chaos
    I sit
    unflinching
    I fall backwards
    into a tune
    its been behind me all along

    the door.

    June 28, 2024
  • say

    I am the wind,
    roaring, howling,
    mostly aloof,
    cutting through the innocence of yesterday
    destroyed in the fire of one’s ignorance
    tangled in the meshes of human trees
    singing songs for those who can still hear
    the broken melody of life

    where do I blow now,
    my heart weary by the storms
    they hit the eyelashes
    obstructed by memories and the
    freezing blood of time

    ordinarily without a face
    tattered veins of a mysterious death
    wishing to return home
    not elsewhere but here

    I cough and turn in my bed praying for relief
    it is painful
    this murmur in my skin
    dried lips,
    charred bones,
    my dense tongue
    speaks in a language unheard

    as harsh cold shivers upon the traces of imagination,
    ideas of revolution cease at the door of longings and attachments.

    and at last as the doors of love and friendship start creaking, opening from the inside, we give up on our dreams, forgetting why we fight the good fight, purposelessly wandering within the blankets of sexy conformity that define the possibilities at the speck of dawn that die silently without vigour by mid-day.

    so then you satisfy the day by eating your own shit like a good old bread spread jammed between the lines of the known, shielded from fears that are hunted in an act of the ultimate sport of manliness.
    bravo!

    another place has called,
    a traveller without hesitation ends up in the fields of half brewed wine complaining about the lack of sophistication in the taste of the rich,
    scenery attached to dusty fields of beauty embraced by the sickening tide of the void.

    it is clear then to one’s who implore that to stick around in this world takes great courage when everything is working against each other, and no one can stand their own ground without leaning on a certain doctrine they impart with pride and laughter, creating walls of impregnation as they massage a woman’s bare ass who unconsciously reaps the wrath of her own lustful desires, lost in the sauce of ecstasy believing the great fantasies of opium induced splendour.

    suddenly she wakes up pinched by the plight of her lover who travelled great distance to see her, something shattered that night as a demon was born without feet uprooted out of notions of tranquility, a curse cast upon the plains of freedom, an island with no stain, spitting venom stirred into hot water with honey spiced with ginger and pepper, medicine is often born out of the guts of poison.

    a marvelous sight to behold, the undying quest of the eternal ocean copulating with the abrasive sand of the shore.

    Love is a four letter word abused by the ones who hang their balls by the bells at the doors of temple entrances to be lapped up and rung in great meditation of a drug induced state in an unwringing lust for god.

    the great understanding is then to realise that even wisdom fails in face of the mental prison, and darkness is an infant without mother, light its vagabond brother without direction and you the invisible warrior beast crooked spinal column of an insect consciousness hurled into the extravagance of this universe, a puzzle waiting to be simply observed and glimpsed and walked into rather than a mistaken ordeal to decode greatness out of the feathers of a dying bird.

    a great struggle to merge.
    the ones who shall become aware will suffer to no end in all worlds simultaneously.
    there is no other life you can take your journey into, everything will amplify through the cracks of your soul pounding into the thunders of nothingness as sunshine returns after passing of a storm.

    as I am approached by water, it is revealed that we have a difficult relationship.
    It burns my skin as it washes away what I hold so dearly deep within, I cry every morning and then in the night and needless to say I avoid bathing as much as possible.

    only rain remains
    unstoppable bladder movements
    and deep contemplation of the abyss

    I am the wind,
    roaring, howling,
    mostly aloof,
    singing songs for those who can still hear
    the broken melody of life.

     

    June 28, 2024
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© 2024 Pratik Mahajan