I had breakfast this morning. This is a piece of news that everyone needs to know today. It would've made the headlines but I was too busy working so I forgot to call the newspapers.
Breakfast was my favourite meal of the day. And then I became a nocturnal thingamajig. I started waking up only past one p.m., leaving no chance for a morning meal. There is a fitting ditty written by a friend, to breakfast. I shall have to ask him if I can put it up here. Of course, it'll have to be signed with a pseudonym, he'd never let it be any other way.
There's also another fitting piece of writing that i'd like to put up here.
Night makes the world another world.
The day's world is crowded with things.
You get lost in it.
Or they push you around.
To keep a hold on yourself
you have to ignore a lot of them.
You have to brush some aside to find your way.
So the more you see, the less you see.
The night rubs these out, or packs them all together.
And puts them on your shoulder like a blanket.
So you move with the owrld on your back, feeling bigger than you are -
one pice with nature.
Night's life is nature's life.
In the night's deep furrow
between two lidded leaves of sleep
like a night-lily opening on the waters.
It is as if all one's likes had joined in one person.
The bracing breaths of air
the coloured orbs of vision
the trees and landscape wrapped in sky's blue foil
the throbbings of the inner row of senses
and drawn one in
between two coagulated shadows
two lobes of intermeshing mystery.
there is no movement.
Just the thrill of pleasure.
just the muted hide and seek
of an image and its shadow
in indecisive lineament
between two lidded leaves of sleep.
The day's light, then, cuts dead open
all life's mystery
sharpens the contours and shrinks
the inner core.
Cuts each limb adrift in autonomous action
the eye sees without knowing
the ear hears without feeling
the body acts without the inner push.
And the wish bud sears within its slender stem.
The lazy acts roll out
like listless coins
from a mechanical mint.