Pink Clouds

Pinks clouds, mixed with blue air,
Sprawling across the dimming sky
My eyes flitting from cloud to cloud,
The sky seems to leap out,
Out of the slits of my eyes.
These eyes, they trace,
Every single ray
As far as they can see
Blocked by the horizon,
Contained at the precipice of eternity.
These shapes, these colors this expanse affords to me
Yet how much there is that will never be seen —
There one tree, two, ten and then many
Till they dissolve in plenitude,
And become a green smudge pasted on the horizon,
Like a smug smirk –
Of the nature of all things, obscure and fleeting.

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About Me

Nehaan in Persian means ‘secret’ or ‘hidden.’ In Japanese, the same word means ‘nirvana.’ In these pages, I will make an attempt to explore, and if possible, partly or fully reveal what lies hidden from our view in our day-to-day lives. The path will be characterised by a certain lack of method which I think is characteristic of human intuition. I write and shall continue to write only when inspired to do so. This also means I might occasionally make forays into varied fields such as science, music, philosophy, language, linguistics and poetry, to name a few. I hope this would not put off new readers and tire the old ones! But who am I to complain–even the lovers of fine wine feel repulsed by the first drop and still, quite strangely, dizzy by the last.

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