the retiring ALMIGHTY

God, the name of some super natural, almighty, no evidence being, who claims to have super powers and can make, remake or destroy anything He claims that he created. He is indeed, the supreme of the ordinary.

But, we, humans, although his creation, can do things which are not just special but far better than specialty. The synonym of the word ‘high risk’ is quite absent in our dictionary of present world. Every substance on this earth, which came after us, was by us, mostly. We don’t need blessings, we can invent that too. You are God, we are God gift, but the present is a prize and surprise for you, because we can “make” too.

Let us compete the creator with his composition, so what if he created us? We can create ourselves, the cloning exists now. we can inherit our own beings and tell them to replicate all the senses we have, including the vision we have. After all they are the one produced for that purpose and asked to come alive to burden their coming survival.

God, we may need you and remember you only during our meals, marriages or funerals. You gave us the thinking machine right above our heads and an unreeled camera to click and fairy manipulative dreams with the eyes. So here we are, challenging you that we could be the next creators and the first genius species you can ever award yourself for.

God, I know what you are thinking. You fear that you may become history of the extinct. But we consider you one now. The time you existed and created, you donated an invention of eyes in us to see you. But we are far better now, we generated technology, such highly categorized that we can store, view and even edit it to our beliefs. We are emotionally technical.

The eyes have made us to dream of being the creator and we can claim to you that we will cross verify all your creations and inventions and rectify it to what we now dream of.

We are thankful to Mother Nature for contributing for things that we could also have done, but taking credit for everything would be injustice. The similarity of our creations matches yours, just because we came into being after you. Else we could have planned for the desk ourselves.

The destiny is so beautiful and approachable; we don’t want any kind of hurdles from your end. The earthquakes, tsunamis, storms, floods and so many other complications were recorded as your ‘not-wanting-us-to win’ conspiracies. We had no choice but to inform you that we are self sustained at self destruction through guns, bullets, missiles and nuclear bombs. We can handle our destruction now you see.

Drawing on the fine command on language and the dismissal of the fine colors, the eyes are taking the pain to identify. They are suffering from color blindness of the dreams. Nothing seems to work for the unreachable view. They have so much to say, but they can only see. That’s it. They may be closed too, or may be closer. But they seem to be indecent with view due to the line of water covering the layer of sincere confidentiality or extreme longing ness for praise. It’s the eyes, they see, mostly things which are easy to view, observe and creating no room for efforts.

Eyes, the photography of the dream catcher, the symbol of seeker, the solution to the jumbler and even the bet of the gambler. They see. The god of the creator had eyes too.

Only difference was, they could create and see. The diminishing humanity is losing grip on the view of it as they run for destiny. The destiny defined products simply want it because they see it. They want it and pursue it to the extent of what the creator did when He was defining the meaning of definition. The creature of today is seeing the unseen. It has tried all means to make best use of the eyes, to see present, as an exhaling future. The serious colors of humanity are fading its worth, not in the eyes of themselves, but in the eyes of the eye maker.

God, now you may be thinking what is left for you rekindle?

Well, we can suggest you something... Try recreating!!

Because now, ‘We have vision for today’s tomorrow’

brain mapper

Imagine, if you standing in the middle of the sea, left with only a boat?
Suddenly, you observe a hole in your boat. You can see the water entering into it rapidly. You don’t know how to swim and can’t afford to drop yourself into the sea either as you are encountering a dozen of hungry sharks floating around your boat.

There is no help from miles off the shore you can see. It’s also dark and the tidal waves are becoming nasty. Everything is losing out of your hands. As the boat is sinking, the sharks are about to party with your fresh flesh.

What is the way? How to save yourself? Will you survive? Or will you just give up? Find a way…

Give up? Well, there is way. You can be saved. Its simple..
Just

Stop

IMAGINING… :o)

Every click of eye is imagination, except its not done by a blind one since birth :o)... It’s never ending, we see future, we see past and we rekindle them in our present. It is imagination fueling the life to run desire and the desire to accomplish a desire.

Its imagination, a stage between reality and individuality. The one, who imagines, is the one who wants it real or may have already faced its dilemma.

But what exactly does reality aspire for, when imagination is just an excuse?

The human mind is still searching. The science is claiming to be God. It’s the only subject with imagination and implications at its best. So what is now left is individuality. There is nothing like a serious individual, but his own mind over his matter. Individuality conspires the conspiracy of the mind which has the capacity to imagine and bend him to make it real for the purpose of acquiring the everlasting thirst for self satisfaction and surrogacy.

You may travel time, jump a long height, make love with your favorite superstar or even rule the world. The reality just makes you feel where you stand right now, but your individuality will give a push to make you super with everything you want to achieve.

Concluding with that fact, the reality of an individual is the individuality of the real. They are the sole designators to imbibe imagination.


Imagination is skin of the soul and soul of the skin.

THINK the thing

The pages are empty, the pencil isn’t sharpened, the desk is dusted, and the chair still needs repair. The only thing in place is the thought, which is dying for recognition with the dark ink and a white skin.

Thought; the most beautiful translator for heart and mind, it’s the inevitable feeling inside and outside me.
My mind has never been able to accept the fact that thoughts could die with a being. It cannot.

Maybe the sun has many reasons to rise and shine, the flower to flourish, the plane to fly in the air, the clouds to rain, the man to hug and kiss the woman, the computer to ask for password before starting, the lock to be opened with a specified key, the book to have pages, the football to be kicked, the remote to change channel, the dog to bark, the ice to be hard and so much more.

They are inevitable thoughts; they come in my mind and go. We are leaving foot prints of our thoughts in the minds of everyone we have a thought about. It is so amazing to think. We could never escape it, provided we die. But what if there is the soul also that thinks? Is it possible? Or is it again my thought that they also think after death or even if soul exists after death or the thought that death exists too?

My mind is thought, an idea, a source, a caliber and even a conductor. I can think of fitting into any of the roles until my mind makes me think that it’s a thought to give birth to or to diminish without reloading back from where it came, which is thought again.

It’s a give and take of something that does not exist but still prove its existence with everything.

My words may be confusing until it’s not taken as thought. It is complicated but fabricated too. My thoughts are flying the higher levels of exposure which could just not be limited to the pages; they need to be unlimited to the minds of those kind breeds who are also mending their views, their likings, their souls and their destinies destined through…… THOUGHTS

sort alone

How can someone define why I am so lonely?
The one who was mine, belongs to someone else, namely?
If this is the world, then why is the world like this?
If this is what is happening, why does it happen without a miss?

Just as i raise my hands towards her, in my arms, she would ride
And in her hearts would submit, my heart beats inside
If there is so much closeness, then why is there so much distance now?
Is it a relation temporary or a relation by birth some how?

It is said that the relation of love is the relation by birth
If it is the relation by birth, then why does it change my worth?
It the trust is lost, why does it regain, so firmly?
How can someone define why I am so lonely?

when i hear....

when i hear...

drops of water, in the ocean..thirsty
cheering crowd, at clown..yet hasty
the message tone..my cell beeping
fan, restless, moving..when im sleeping

sound of cars, ready to park
dogs crying for praise, when intense dark
the gulp..of a frightened throat
chew to please..an old wise goat

foots tapping..the armed officials
beat of decision..the granting judicials
heart beats of a rat..deep in trap
sign of betrayal..a painful slap

restless and breathless, tiredness of a player
cruel to cut speed, change every gear
chanting for lord..call of the priest
laughing still ugly...the unwanted beast

snake proposing to snake..hissing
love birds preach..love and kissing
horse, jump, gallop...simple joy
whistle..weapon of a silly boy

on the fixed path, the roaring train
crazy sneeze...of the nose insane
songs of pigs, hungry..nasty
drops of water, in the ocean..thirsty

when i hear.....