Times Square

She went about life as usual, although it was not.

And she knew it wasn't. She did not pretend it was.

But she did nothing about it. She wondered if she needed to something about it.

Perhaps deep inside she felt, she did need to.

But somewhere even deeper within, she knew it did not matter.

It did not matter, because no one knew right from wrong anyway.

No one knows and no one can tell.

May be intuition can? But intuition is a selfish thing as well.

What does right mean anyway? and what is the meaning of wrong?

Right for whom? Right says who?

There is no right and wrong. They are just illusions to feed her ever hungry mind.

her ever hungry self,

her ever hungry ego...

to calm it down..

She tells herself that something is right and something is wrong, so she may be able to make a decision, or take a stance.

To temporarily create an illusion of peace among the ever increasing chaos in her mind.

Instead, would it be wiser to accept the chaos and find peace in it?

No one would believe that it indeed is possible to do so;

not unless they visit Times Square at least 4 times; and just sit and stare for a while.

Who am I?

I ask myself, sometimes now..

What is it that i want?

but I never seem to get an answer.

No, it's not one of those questions which YOU ask yourself.

This one is my question.

It is not about my "passion" or "choice of career"

It is not about "life in general"

sometimes it is about what movies I like.

what food do i like?

what do i want to do on the weekend.

not what I have to do...

or what others might want me to do...

It's about me.

I have never asked these before to myself.

I have never tried to understand my natural urges

I feel like water - always fitting perfectly in any container offered.

Relenting, letting go.

Accepting choices made by people or circumstances, as my own; even Approving them.

I guess people say that it's supposed to be good to be that way - like water - No desires, no pain .... whatever.

I don't know me.

But I would love to.

Till yesterday, I used to be surprised about people who live alone.

Even feel depressed for them.

For the first time in 25 years..

I want to know me, perhaps even BE me.

I want to live with me for a while.

I feel like I am asking for a saint's life - isolated in the forest.

Meditating to reveal the wealth of secrets within.

Stars

When i ask the stars, what they hold for me,

They twinkle at me playfully.

Stubborn, un-revealing, glowing in mirth.

I wonder what it is they hold in the darkness behind them.

They are in no hurry to tell.

They enjoy their mysterious twinkling glory

The pleasure of knowing what lies beyond infinity... aah that must be some pleasure.

And they keep winking,

Lest their beautiful twinkling eyes give their secrets away.

But just may be they have no secret

And that is what they want to hide

Perhaps they have nothing to tell

Attention seekers - all of them.

Imposters - concealing nothing but layers and layers of darkness.

Hoarding no Light, hiding no future.

And perhaps that is why

They never can look me in the eye.

I see them stare only as I turn my gaze away.

Sly creatures... or may be just shy creatures...