change, illuminations

You are free to choose

What is to be done with this new
opening and widening of time,
arriving again on the innocence of choice,
and the violence of loss after.
Like finishing a race she
accidentally entered and won,
and could not care for the prize.
Maybe there will be Greece again,
the guardian of the Tomato museum
who sat motionless and calm
in the face of forgotten histories.
Or a cabin in New England,
its streams covered with sheets of calm,
hiding the madness underneath.
When every direction is equal and fair,
choosing also means abandoning.
Today, she begins with her temporary
manufactured contentment, books of poetry,
sunshine and an empty page.
Which shape will this ink take,
she wonders as the river begins to flow.

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change, illuminations

For a young lady fond of sweet things -don’t stop

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How is it on some nights,
eyes open as if to a new world
and things appear almost by magic.
A portal had opened momentarily
to the old poet sitting by himself,
reciting a poem to this lady fond of sweet things,
telling her to never stop, that she lived in a world
that belonged to a child, crammed with treasures of exotic plenty.
Impossible not to feel chosen then,
walking next to a kindred spirit,
smiling to song and light,
for a moment remembering the cinema in it all.
These motions, one step after another,
of asking, seeking, and finding
wisdom, like hot air—
not empty but enabling a lifting.
Meandering home (so intimate, the act of matching steps),
a wise fox passed by.
So much easier to dismiss it as chance
had it not looked her straight in the eyes
as if to say- wait, have patience and don’t stop.

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change, hope, illuminations

A prophecy lived

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Many years ago in a random rabbit hole I found an image of a town called Santorini, I didn’t even know it existed. It became my muse for a while and I wrote a poem about it and tagged it as “prophecy” (see below).

Meanwhile my whole life changed between the time that I dreamt of this place and when I actually visited it, and I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that all those changes have somehow led me to this moment of celebrating my 30th in Santorini.

Dreams are not the ladders on which you climb but stars to point your life towards, some you cross, some stay with you and some disappear. What is important – is to dream.

https://sanarao.wordpress.com/2010/03/30/of-places-we-must-visit/

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change, illuminations

Measuring time

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No one knows that at the gates of heaven,
the only question asked, is how you spent your time

If we knew that time is measured in page flips,
in the shadows cast by towering trees and in contentment;
we wouldn’t measure time in punctuality and habits
nor squander it on obligations and thieves.

If time keeping didn’t mean trying to contain
but to hold close what is our most precious possession

We would know, that the ladders stacked around lead nowhere
and we would walk past them with no hesitation.
Nature would ravage these unaccustomed limits
and turn them into canopies to read under.

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