June 16, 2008, Monday
Biraha, the grief of being separated and away from what perceives as one’s own or the sadness that surrounds when one senses a future loss of a perceived important person in one’s life. Such Biraha surrounds in urgent hours of ten at night. The loss is not painful because it depicts the going away of them but that it indicates emptiness when you suddenly turn a card and become a page that is long turned and yellowed. Helplessness twirls around like small leftovers of a whirlpool. All you can ask is why such persistence. It makes one wonder if they actually realize how important time is and whether they know that in spite of using all cosmic energies they will never be able to return to this point in time, emotion, situation and age as now. I want to run like Whitman, naked and undisguised and gain that ideal, godly stubbornness and loaf around. But attachments make me weak. I, who has never had attachments and have willfully ranted, will persevere to be so, but in a more tranquil and introspective way.