November 26, 2013

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away–
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break,
and–Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And I knock with a rose
at the hopeless gate of your heart–
Open to me
For I will show you the places
Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

- e. e. cummings


Kevin said...

I was going to say, 'wow, your writing has really reached a new level!'

Aneela Z said...

This is a bit urgent and I hope you can let me know by tonight. I have a Pakistani visitor coming in with police reporting. Did you report at any station in Delhi or the one in Daryaganj. Thanks, A

Xeb said...

Blogger ate up my comment! :/

So what I said is that you have to report to the one specific police station. I don't remember if its in Daryaganj, but its somewhere close to old city.

Aneela Z said...

Thankyou sweetheart! In the time I posted the query, niece called up to say she got exemption ... Which shows how fucking arbitrary and sifarishi the system is. But bless you for this

Anonymous said...

When is the next entry coming?