Wednesday, June 16, 2010


If you don't know every "thing", then you know nothing about any "thing". For what is a "thing"?

Is everything a thing in itself or, is it a thing made of everything else? Is a white teacup a thing? or is the color white a thing? what then is this combination of things that is the tea cup itself?

Furthermore, is this combination of things (porcelain, white color, atom and subatomic particles etc) enough to make this thing? What about the shape of the tea cup itself- is that an ingredient as well? Does "everything" have a shape as well?

How should I know, I don't know anything. I wish you did.
Although, I do know something about "everything" i.e I can not know everything.

1 comment:

  1. Timeless

    To have a start through the end of

    Once a beginning

    A congregation of moments paused

    At the fate of those inclined towards

    Yet another

    The hide and seek of frenzied thoughts

    Simply working on

    Silently persuading perception

    In a misguided sequence of mere moments

    Placed between the ‘now’ and

    What was ‘then’

    To succumb to infatuation as remedial

    Of tenderness of blinded misery

    Tremors of instability

    Find a reason to linger between thoughts

    On guard from the beastly reality of nature

    Encompassed within a well

    Hollow enough with its emptiness, yet,

    Seemingly deep with darkness

    Unknown forms of reason taint nature

    much beyond ‘me’ and ‘mine’

    As it does within

    Just a the creator, giving birth to

    Perception bound by its own limits

    Habits bound by their own nature

    Sucked into the fallacy twirling within

    Although mindful I become mindless

    Thoughtless yet thoughtful

    Caught in the miraculous being,

    A miracle itself seems uneventful

    Consumed by the totality of;

    A breathless soul searches an escape

    Out of the mortality

    Brought upon by mortal thoughts

    Of a perception which fails

    And due realization under veils

    In such attachment

    Time shall exist as real to explain

    The course of itself

    While boundless nature seizes to exist

    in contradictions

    Limits of my own creation, of myself

    Limit me precariously

    As need arises

    and with it its infinite clauses

    Of a conditional sense of acuity

    I shall not be free

    Forever consumed by thoughts

    Quantified with time

    Relieved only through burgeoning

    As an epidemic


    In search of joy

    I am free only if I choose to be

    Thoughtless, mindless,