Bandwidth

There's dark around and it makes no sound.
It lies motionless, as dead as a stone,
In deep trenches of agony, it mourns alone.
Its deadthly cold, yet it shows no shivers,
Untouched by winds, moonlight, or rivers.
there's no glow within, as it, lifeless, sleeps,
a thick shell on the out but inside it weeps.
A thousand bugles and horns bellow all day,
But it only answers to your gentle "hey"
At the sound of your voice, it springs alive
It dances the tango, two step, salsa and jive.
A bright red glow, that spreads all around,
In its fit of happiness, it even lifts off the ground.
But the crazy haired genius was was never more right,
In this bandwidth of life, time speeds its flight.
So long as you're there, it lives all it could,
The moment you cut off, it decays like wood.
As minutes fly by, the glow too fades,
Its life seeps through the cracks as death evades
Then back in to the darkness, it lies still,
Bounded by death, till something strikes your will.
Worked up by these cycles of life and death
the day's not too far it will run out of breath.
then silent forever, it wont answer no call
there's no more life, no bandwith at all.

The door

He looked without blinking at the locked door. It was a heavy metallic door made of steel plates which he imagined would weigh over a hundred tonnes. It was unlikely that anyone could ever break into it. There was no visible lock on the door and neither did it have any handles. It didnt seem like a designer's work for there were no decorations on the door. The creator of the door had not even bothered to give it some color, and it stood there pale and cold. There was a clock next to the door which was supposed to show the time it would open, but the display wasnt functioning. It seemed a neglected sight. Nevertheless, the door served its purpose of guarding the passage. It was widely believed that the passage led to a beautiful place with green meadows, warm sunlight, a light blue sky and purple, snow-capped mountains. The people on the other side were heard of as being a merry and friendly folk. There was a time when it would open, but he did not know when. There was no time mentioned anywhere, nor did he know the person who opened it. With his heart racing, he waited for it to open.

The world around him seemed to be falling apart. The earth under his feet had begun to crack. There was a huge storm coming towards him, and he did not know where to run. His heartbeat had quicked to such an extent that he feared thathis heart would burst. Getting through the door seemed to be his only option. He tried all tricks he knew to open it, but none seemed to work. Everyone he spoke to, told him that the door would not open. He did know a few who had managed to get through it, but he had been out of touch with them for a long time. There was smoke all around and he was finding it hard to breathe. The night had become chilly and he was scared. He thought that he heard sounds of wild animals out on the hunt. He prayed for the door to open and allow him to escape.

Somewhere he had heard that the door would open to those brave at heart, but he could not gather enough courage. His senses were numbed, and his memory had faded.

His clothes were old and in tatters, and his hair disheveled. His pockets were torn, and whatever he had in them was no more with him. All he carried was a piece of mirror in his left hand which had cut him severely. He could not remember his name or where he came from. All he remembered was a wise old bearded man with silver hair who he used to have conversations with. He did not remember the wise man ever mentioning to him about this place or the door. He tried to recollect how he happened to come about this place, but in vain. He only had a vague memory of asking directions on the way to a feminine form. He wasnt sure now whether she was some witch sent by the devil, or he had understood incorrectly.

He did not feel bad about it though, since he had lost his ability of feeling any emotion. All that he felt was fear, as a result of which, the door would not open. He was aware of the coming storm and the smoke was smothering him. He wished that the door would open and allow him through to the other side. But it was not to be so. With longing in his eyes, he looked without blinking at the locked door.

Interpreting dreams

a step down, a step back
clean the shades, empty the sack
trash the trunk, clear the slate
black was the past, the future is great.

shift the thoughts, change the words
worship the studs, respect the nerds
work the day, slog the night
shut the mouth, listen it right

say you're dumb, and let them laugh
or speak wisdom, and take the staff
praise the jack, shun the glam
maintain low, but dont give a damn

get the guns, build the strength
run the distance, cover the length
remember the scars, there's lot to avenge
forget it  not, take revenge.

you

the deepest emotions are never spoken
the toughest things are most easily broken.

its easier to answer the call of mortal duty
than survive the waves of your immortal beauty.

its easier to imagine death by chance
than suffer the burn from your unknowing glance.

i wish i could forget and get on my way
your memories are embossed forever to stay.

your talk is sweet, but i know its fake
de rigeur for you, but my life's at stake.

you play it like a game, to amuse yourself
i've seen it before, i've burnt myself.

and yet again i find myself consoling my mind
pushing myself through the same old grind.

speed

As the warmth steadily grows
in the frozen body
And the blood slowly starts to flow.

As the first muscle twitches
regaining consciousness
And the eyes slowly open.

As i escape death, the Killer
while she was high
And the life slowly returns.

As i keep aside my Guitar
with her broken strings
And her sad tune slowly gives way.

As the heart beat quickens
the legs run faster
And strong wind lashes across the face.

As the blood gushes through the veins
accelerating with time
And the thoughts run faster still...

Velocity. the heartbeat.

Transient

Its been a long time since I wrote anything in prose (well, most of the recent posts were attempts at poetry), so here are a few lines of my thoughts.

What prompted me to write this was a nonfunctional shower, which either burned me or froze me, and I would wait endlessly for water of some comfortable temperature.

Looking slightly deeper, I realized that often in life, we wait for things to settle down before we begin serious work. After moving to a new place, we often hear people asking us if we have settled down, and whether routine has been set. Thinking about it, I often see myself giving excuses in the first month after a significant change "I am still settling down, getting used to things".

We are really uncomfortable with transients, not only in heat transfer equations (for which we generally use steady state approximations) but also in real life: physical and mental. Jet lag would be another example (slightly inevitable though) of a transient.

Applying the heat transfer analogy (HT happens to be my favourite subjects at present), if the time frame under consideration is smaller than the characteristic time scale, the steady state approximation holds. So similarly in life, we must build speed. Both of thought and action.

I would attribute success to mastering the art of surviving in transients. Not waiting for things to settle down. As the speed of change has gone up in the recent years, waiting for things to "settle down" looks like a folly. We ought to find some quasi-steady state in between transients. (If that line makes sense).

So I'm presently looking at the best ways of building speed of thoughts in life.

Pastmaster

As the sun climbs down
beyond the quiet town
and a mild breeze
whispers with ease
and as the night grows older
the wind blows colder
and a dark gloom prevails
as the mind derails,
And time moves faster
hailing the pastmaster
while thoughts stay still,
motionless till
melancholy grows
and a figurine shows
a hazy form
with the same old charm,
dissolves in the air;
And with despair
as you stare into space
the heart picks pace
and silence surrounds
as death does rounds;
And sands still steady
the body is ready
to flow with the waves
as the mind still craves
for a moment more;
they wash ashore.