Poetry, like music, happens all the time
Within us and outside us
But not everyone pauses long enough
To notice thoughts that follow a feather floating in the air
Or eyes that blink a coded message
Moments come and go like ocean tides, only faster
They hardly have the patience to linger
I think they are like us
But words wait
As if not knowing which direction to take
Directions don’t matter to words
As they move on wings of intuition
And search for another intuitive partner
Words wait
Words fly around
Words swim
Words walk
Words hobble
Words sprint
Like musical notes do all the time
Like our imagination does all the time
Like we wish we could do all the time
But we’re not words
And we’re neither thoughts
We simply carry thoughts
We think we create thoughts
Just as we think we give words a life
Just as we think we think we marry words to thoughts
This isn’t the truth
We are the ones who watch
The drama of thoughts wooing words
Well, it is the other way at times
But we are the ones who watch this drama unfold
This drama that comes with a musical score
That only a few are able to hear
Thoughts and words do not like to consummate
In silence, though they may be defining or defending silence
They love their acts to be accompanied by music
Sometimes soft with only wind instruments
And sometimes with drums and cymbals
They love it all but get to choose the format
Unlike us who listen to music
That we are fed
There is a different type of music
As I mentioned earlier
Music that is within us and outside us
But we need to pause and listen
Not with our ears
Not with a mind that wanders in the external world
We hear it when we open our inner self
To the drama of thoughts, words, and music
Converging into each other
Consummating a relationship
A relationship that we have not arranged
But only encouraged
Yes, we can encourage this convergence
Of the three most powerful entities
Words
Thoughts
Music
And have the freedom to be their mate
Be aroused by them
Be caressed by them
And be a part of joy that they really are
Poetry is all around us
And inside us
Like invisible wisps gently floating
Waiting to be transformed into thoughts
As it is thoughts that have an eye
For words
Music just happens
When thoughts and words
Meet to mate
It is its fate
Well, not every thought grows up on a diet of words
And becomes a poem
Only some do
And this is why I say:
And then a poem got some words
.
.
.
And then a poem got some words
.
This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.
.
.
Arvind Passey
27 January 2016
