Demand-Luxuriant

Cloud Passion, Misty Cafe,Catching the Ray

Chaos Series: Passion,Painting by Monoreena

“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.”― Bob Marley

A few drops.
And enough to spell a doom.

Where,
Flying fountains take root,
Flies gather nectar from
Hershey’s heart,
That yellow ball creates its own
neighbourhood,
Caress, a chef-mastered à la cart—

You paint mountains in the clouds,
Run to measure horizons unknown,
In your journal of time
Keep notes of love debts loaned,

Storm in turquoise, a quill of storm
In love-lorn minds you bloom,
Moment the verso is word-touched,
In dreamy hearts — O! they spell a doom…….

You stroke the dark with moonlight,
Splash it over with unseen stars,
Where fire creates fireflies,
Demure words strums the guitar,

Thorny pains change sides,
Broken dreams crowding pillows
chide,
Yet, climbing the evergreen
tree, a lemony mind,
Season of love never a discounted
kind,

Know,
Days will change, holding hands
of time,
Fissures will sing, hemming melody in
blithe,
Feathers will gather to forge
a skein,
Mind-lilac will one day bloom in
mind’s grind……

But in demand-luxuriant thoughts,
Whims chime —

Waiting the turn, waiting a while,
Squall-o-lilacs, quills of blue to bloom,
Aegis will come down the graphite road,
Those fragrant hearts once exhumed,

Just a few drops.
Enough for phantasmal to bloom,
Moment the recto is word-touched,
In chimerical hearts — O! they spell a doom…….

The moment the verso is word-touched,
In swooning hearts — O! they spell a doom…….

Passion Cafe:
“I would rather die of passion than of boredom.”― Émile Zola, The Ladies’ Paradise

Passion feeds.Not that you are hungry or parched.Not that you are nursing an empty mind or bodily vacuum.Yet, it fills you up, as if, this is what you needed to make you feel complete.
You may have a cool life in reality, but the ruffles some days present you with, play with your fantasy, like the zephyr plays with your hair. Nothing spectacular, but that moment of bliss.
It fits in like soft cotton in an already filled mind-trunk, but does not seem out of place. It is very familiar, still unique. The familiarity reaches you to a place of calm, that you know, understand, touch and the uniqueness drives you through shady, woody roads to an exciting journey of an unknown.
Life in its essence, is to be read between the lines.You learn.A particular analogy plays in my mind as I write now, is one from my geography books from school, where I found this particularly interesting, how in sub-zero terrains, a thick sheet of ice that form over a lake or any waterbody, to keep the water inside not only unfrozen, but warm enough to support life. On the outside, without knowledge, this lake will only look like a continuum of the frosty earth.

The same goes for some connections/relationships(of any kind)— where there is a paradox, the water is effervescent and warm beneath that thick layer of ice — where giving means taking and taking means giving, where the ever-giver quietly takes the back seat and enjoys the passion fruit hand-plated to you. It is complex yet seamless. Uneventful on the surface, but seen through cracks, leads you to the theatre of life.

You encounter some of these bundles of introverted, passionate energy, who cannot rest unless they find a platform to share their intensity and you find that uncanny resonance with the kind of energy you carry inside.Like the rising tide on a stormy night, they lash on their nearest shore to create melody in chaos. It is unto you to get usurped by the storm or stand your ground, however porous the sand beneath is. And in this roller-coaster what you experience is life in its quirky, but pure and sublime form.

Hidden away from the exterior world, you know you have prevented a storm from self-annihilation and hopefully channelised for the good of the better world.
Agreed, it’s not the normal of associations, but they come snugly fitted, personifying the rules of copy-book magnetism and if you know how to read the lines, you cannot miss the fire and power of the connecting strings.Results are surprising to look at and for the world to devour.

In my apparently still life, universe has many times found a way to fill my coffer with things sui geneis often bordering weird, which flows like that warm stream of hydrous body beneath an apparently un-eventful winter frost, giving purpose/meaning to life. I hope the painfully weirds of the world always fall in my basket of serendipity.

You see, you can be dead with happiness, but with pain you feel awakwardly alive.

Painting: Putting passion on paper,Acrylic with knife, on cold pressed canvas.

A Gratitude Note:
I did not quite believe when I was told by my father, but then I checked and found it to be true. Soul Bay has a page of its own now👇:

Photo by Author

If I know a little of how this was made possible,a big gratitude note is on the cards along with some streamers and balloons.Though I love my moments of solitude, I never party alone😊.So here it goes:

David Rudder William J Spirdione Franco Amati John O'Neill Thief Harry Stefanakis Trista Signe Ainsworth Carolyn Hastings Kimberly Hampton Nilsson Neera Handa Dr Dr. Fatima Imam Denise Darby Filza Chaudhry A.H. Mehr Yana Bostongirl Hayden Moore Joe Merkle Joseph Lieungh Ravyne Hawke Sahil Patel and many passioned souls I might be missing. My apologies.

A big thank you from Soul Bay to you all and everyone who cares to stand by and share your time.It’s a grand pleasure!