FOURTH DESERT

When you went out into the cold,
did the ice lash down on you relentlessly
Did you crave to return to that cushion of bliss
Did you curse your fortune with deadly repetitiveness
and shake your own head into holes.
Did the landscape bewilder you
while a quagmire sucked you down
Sand crammed into your mouth.
Did the hail stones bruise your eyes.
And was it hard to think.
When you reached your arms out
to wade against a dam-burst,
And put your legs forward
through quick-sand.
Did you want to give up
Did you relinquish with all your being,
but surrender never happened.
you carried on,
intolerable moment after moment.
One grain at a time
etched into a crevice.

This is the way the world starts
sand upon sand
rock on top of rock
Eclipsed by torment.

This is where the world starts
At the point of nothing
Diminutive, unimportant and inconsequential.
As tough as a desert.

This is where fulfilment starts
filling the pool
droplet upon droplet
crystallizing into permanency
wearing away the stone.

The desert is a lonely place
It's isolation is a vast and untravelled road.
An unbroken day of infinite moments
It's future an unremitting project.
A perpetual construction,
with an unknown conclusion.
It is a giant alcove
seen by all and
experienced by none.
It is a complex that
never unravels.
From the outside a wilderness looks like an empty place
Devoid of life and events,
A place where thirst and passion
never seem to occur
A place where everything stays the same
in a constant flux.
It walks slowly, moving ponderously
never giving its position away.
Its progress is never validated
The beginning is never credited with the end.
And the end rarely knows its roots
or its direction back to limitless events.
The start is indomitable and unmovable
The finale is transient.
Everything goes back to dust
and then starts again.

Sand obscuring flowers
Rock covering water
The outer layers are deceptive
Real life is clandestine,
It does not shout it's name
Small and hidden its voice is very quiet
It's beauty is rarely seen
It suffers but never fails
It advances in whimpers.
Collecting sparks of light.

Exile within exile.
Confinement within confinement
This is a field of thoughts.
And miniscule actions.
That detonate into storms.

This is joy
From the agony of the beginning
Ecstasy explodes !

Joy is the hardest emotion to activate
It is restrained by fear
checked by anger
held prisoner by contempt
It is dispirited by survival
But has to cling to life to ascend.
It desires a whole orchestra
to be played.
It is best when spontaneous.
But is mostly planned.
Every impetus possible
is deployed to stop it.
But it is the only
reason for existence.
It requires an army
of seriousness
to be built.

This is joy
From the exertion of it's journey
Euphoria multiplies.