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grieve? who? The one who’s not lost, friend? :)

grieve them even though I can see them alive under the fall leaves?

🔊  /doʊnt/  /kænt/

see, sometimes, for they serve you not,

grieve who you don’t-can’t


but who I see, any time, for they harm me not?

আমার চোখে ও তোমার অমঙ্গলাকাঙ্ক্ষী নয় । আমার ধারণা- ধারণা উপলব্ধি নয়- তোমার সাথে আছি-

“সত্যের” সাথে নয়। তবে, হয়ত, কোনদিন, দুজনেই সত্যের মধ্যে দাঁড়িয়ে থাকবো?

i don’t see them as your ill-wisher. my conception only- conception isn’t realization- i am with you-

i am not with “truth.” but perhaps, together, we will be with truth someday?

a less efficient system for some worldly things, now optimized, but has rejecting the system left you with no wounds?

today-yesterday––traditional efficiency-beauty. whatever you wish, but also whatever you will.

for my respect and understanding for you is never devoured by nourishment and nurture.

^ Freud

what audacity to claim to know the balance, to claim I experience you- yes! but also what love.

a parent to you, but also not. what you need, but never not what you want. safe.

your experience > you being held alive.


  reverent, I bow to such love.


if devouring was ‘evil,’ then not devouring would be ‘neutral,’ but did Freud fucking suckle a child for months with his own milk to know the pain of individuation. she’s not ‘good.’ she’s ‘holy.’ sacrificing.

and I am but a deeply devout worshipper. wherever she exists, in every mother.

শুধু শিবের বুকে আর শ্মশানে নয়, চারি পাশে তোমাকে পাই, মা- বলি 'কালী, কালী'

not only on Shiva’s bosom and the cremation grounds, everywhere thou art mother- and I say ‘Kali, Kali’

my love for you, beloved- attentive, but never all-knowing. confident, but humble.

those who hurt you with excess, perhaps never wanting to- you forgive.

but what you forgive, you don’t need to consume.

my mother is friend first, mother second. it’s the most beautiful thing i know-

    the safest. her- the bravest, most selfless

beloved, as we gift each other shadow work in intimate communion, the pain will cut through us like glass shards.

like it did our mothers.

I am more scared than you could imagine; but also not.

I know the paradise that shore is, once you brave through the black waters.

can we swim together, through those scary waters, through that searing pain?


beauty is sublime- of its own accord, not on legs of efficiencies.

and how beautiful a face I see of yoursterday. I hold it in my hands in helpless admiration,

sad to see your shame, to see you glance away.

I kiss that face gently with love, as one would Christ’s robe.

passion left at the door, lest I mark you unbeknownst.


তবে বন্ধু


but friend

* the text is still under significant revisions

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