Endless Sojourn Comments
It drizzled on the way I walked
To my sister's house in that unknown town
That cast a deja vu on me
As though I knew every street
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That was captivating, beginning so pleasant until the nightmare of helpless inundation. Nightmares have always been a source of release, of discontent for worry, helplessness and anxiety. Something creates them, they are not random reels of a bizarre display but strange tales told in the night finding release for the mind of our daytime wandering....sleep well!
Thanks Edmund. I haven't been that active at PH these days. I have to catch up with what is happening and particularly focus on your recent poetry. Regards.
I am glad you recalled the dream well enough to write this. I have tried to remember enough of some to put down in writing, but only dim flashes remain.
Thank you, Sir. My electronic wristwatch which analyzes my sleep says that a major chunk of my sleep is REM. The moment I doze off, the dreams begin so much so that I am not able to say which is waking and which is dream. I think my philosophical preoccupation with Mandukya Upanishad, which studies the three states of waking, dreaming and dreamless deep sleep, has something to do with all this.
Sister is affectionate and sister's home is also affectionate. The green paddy fields along the roadside motivates mind. The nightmare scribbles mind with joy and fear. Life and death are bot wonderful sequence of life. Monsoon wind loses wave. An amazing emotional poem is excellently penned...10
Wonderful poem Sir. The rains and floods in Kerala has really become a nightmare. We have also had sleepless nights, thinking of the innocent people being swept away by the floods. The God's own country has just witnessed, perhaps, the worst ever destruction with nature's fury. Excellent........10
Thanks Ma'am. This particular dream occurred much before the Kerala deluge. Perhaps, it was a premonition. That is a debatable point. Don't know why I have frequent dreams of natural disasters these days.
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7/27/2025 4:31:23 PM # 1.0.0
This a beautiful poem indeed. Nice recalling of dream and putting down on paper. 'Who knows, life is a jigsaw Dreams too, we die and wake In deluge and in cramps The one who knows this Lives unborn Without death in an endless sojourn..' is very nice.10++++
Thanks a lot, Panda-ji, for your nice words. Appreciate your kindness.