Felicitations!!!

You've found the key
to unlock, to open, to enter
the palace in the valley
to walk along
the short hallway
to the chamber of my heart
while many others
peeped through the window
of the chamber of my heart
and then pretended to take
the long corridor to my mind.

-Uththara -

මොක් සුව

මේක මහා අමුතු හැඟීමක්. ඔලුවේ තිබුනට මට ලියන්න ඕනේ කියල, මට තේරෙනවා මගේ අතුලාංතයම පිරිලා තියෙන්නේ මොකක්දෝ ලොකු හිස්කමකින් කියල. හිස්කමකින් උනත් 'පිරිලා' තියෙන හින්ද මට හිතෙනවා වෙන්න පුළුවන් ලියන්න ගොඩක් දේවල් තියෙනවා කියල. ඔබට තේරෙනවද මම මේ හැඟීමට 'අමුතු' එකක් කිවුවේ ඇයි කියල?

ඔබට තේරෙනවා. මට ලියන්න ඕනේ මගේ ඔලුවේ තියෙන බහුබූත ඔක්කොම. මට ඕනේ ඒ බහුබූත ඔක්කොම කියවන එකෙක් දෙන්නෙක්. මහා ලොකු සේනාවක් නෙවෙයි: එකෙක්, දෙන්නෙක්. ඒ එකා දෙන්න එක්ක මට කතා කරන්න ඕනේ. මට හිතෙනවා එහෙම උනොත් තමයි මට මේ ඉන්න තැනින් තව අඩියක් උඩට තියන්න පුළුවන් කියල. එහෙම තමයි මට ලොකු වෙන්න පුළුවන් වෙන්නේ. මම තවම පොඩි එකෙක්... තව එකෙක්ගේ උදවුව නැතුව මම ලොකු වෙන්නේ නෑ. මහා ලොකු උදවුවක් ඕනේ නෑ මට. මම හිතන, කතා කරන පරාසය පළල් කරන එක කරොත් ඒ හොදටම ඇති. මට පුළුවන් ලොකු විශ්වාසයකින් කියන්න ඒ කතා බහේදී මට විතරක් නෙවෙයි මෝක්ෂය හම්බවෙන්නේ කියල. ඒක ද්විපාර්ශවියයි. ඔබට මෝක්ෂය නොලැබී මට විතරක් ලැබෙන්න ඉඩක් ඒ කතා බහේ නැහැ.

ඉතින් මම හොයනවා, මෝක්ෂය ලබන්න තව එකෙක් දෙන්නෙක්.

-උත්තරාදේවි-

Take the Morning Train to St. Cloud with Me

Through the right window, I see the sun

through the left, the moon

and I travel to Cloud on a Northstar rail

On a late August morning

when life is at crossroads

with strangers Cloud-bound

Angels, demons, and hellhounds

A human or two to fill the gaps

eyes, ears, sunk in apps

They get up and get off

while I get up and fly

Two whole years among thousands

and I wonder why I'm alone

Cloud-bound

with the sun to my right

and the moon to my left.

-Uththara-

Shine

We all want life to be a clear sky:
no rains, thundershowers,
no clouds blocking those gorgeous rays of the sun.
We don't always get clear blue skies
and all-sunny days.
There comes a time, or more than one time, of course,
in this seemingly long-lasting dew of a life,
that our days are clouded all greyish black,
heavily hovering over our heads.
What we need is a little change of perspective, souls.
Instead of being that grim and grumpy human
who complains of Mondays,
if you can imagine that you are the sun,
then you would realize that
it is when the sky is most clouded
that you need to shine the brightest
with all the sparks of your soul,
for it is the most breathtaking of sceneries
in the whole wide universe.

So, come on...
Shine
Like a Crazy Diamond!

-Uththara-

Post Script of a Life-Long Novel

Artwork: Dela <3

She wasn't wearing anything fancy; in fact, she was wearing rugged. A thin old cotton small gown that had a tiny frill along its square-cut neck and little greyish buttons all to its bottom so it feels like a long shirt. Unless you give it a good ironing, the plackets are naturally stubborn, quite possibly from sheer negligence or from the old-age, that when she wears the gown, the spaces between buttons always turn in to tiny oval-shaped windows. Perhaps only a Shaolin-trained eye could not be tempted to look through those just to catch a glimpse all the way from her olive-skinned breasts to her secret-keeping thighs: but then again, who could possibly know! She didn't care much to close the windows either. She was a shy girl with bold feelings and of course as these two cannot coexist, one kicked the other to a corner. She became one with nature and that wasn't hard at all; it was actually easier than all the bonding she tried with every human being that crossed paths in her journey. He was a passer-by she thought once. But he was as stubborn as her, maybe more. After all the hurricanes, hailstorms, blizzards, storms, tender rains, drizzles, and rainbows they've walked through, she finally was sitting facing him with a green smoke between her slender, long-nailed fingers. They were both tired: they were as exhausted as much as they were relieved, now that they've won. All these years of battle, not once he held her close while sitting on this sacred place of theirs. She didn't know why exactly but she was not in a hurry until that moment arrives. After all, there is a time and a place for everything. After centuries of waiting, that is if you have that elvish patience to wait for centuries, there comes that moment in time when the time becomes now and the place becomes here. They were there, and they knew it from the depth of their very being. He made the tenderest, most spontaneous of all moves and held her close. She moved like a blade of grass in the wind, without a single resistance. Every single fiber of her body was obeying the wind; she was conscious of it. A conscious blade of grass. He was warm and she was freezing. But gradually she felt the ice caps melting and crashing down at the ocean, splashing blue waters and snow-white bubbles all over her universe. The sun and the moon were both there to witness it. She looked up at him, getting cozy in his cosmic hammock. He was looking at her, carefully, taking his time, breathing in the moment and breathing out his soul.
"I wanted to have you, here, like this for so long. and you know I am centuries old." She knew he was. "Now that you have me, here, like this, what will you do?"
"Move my fingers, like Jimmy Page on guitar"
"Then play Whole Lotta Love."

-Uththara-

The Bohemian Prayer

The 'born-talented' humans are souls with more stardust in them.

They are closer, more in connection, more in one with the soul of the universe than others.

They hear the rhythms of nature, the music of the cosmic rubble, the heartbeats of a googolplexian of living beings; they feel nature's tender vibes moving in their own souls, in their bones and muscles; they see the color palette of the greatest artist.

They are the true prophets who translate the language of the universe into human expressions; they zoom-in the cosmic picture of the universe using their talents so that those who cannot feel it could get a glimpse of the beauty -- of our very being.

The prophets translate the language of the universe using their own unique talents: Some paint, some write, some sing, some play them as music, and some others dance to the rhythms.

Do you see how precious you are,

to yourself, to me, to humanity,

and to the whole universe? 

If you see this, as clearly as it is, you would not regret the decision to leave all materialistic careers behind to follow the call of the universal soul; you would make a mental note to pick up that dusty guitar you now keep as interior decor. 

Did you exchange a walk on part in the war

to a lead role in a cage?

I don't feel we are here in this cosmic rubble, rotating ever so much until the next big bang to exhaust our very being until the day we die, to pile up hypothetical currencies.

Life is larger than the recent man-made rules.

Your soul needs nourishing from the bluest fountains and the highest mountains.

I hope, with all my soul, that you would at least come close to this realization and feel happy from the depth of your soul and touch the zenith of your true being:

It may be a split second of joy but it would be a precious drop of fresh water to quench the thirst in your soul. 

- Uththara -

On Moonlit Nights: A Conversation

"Moon

has always been 

my companion. 

it's always there when you need it."

"...That juxtaposition 

of serenity and melancholy of moonlight..."

"So peaceful and calm, 

it gives you the power to let go 

for a second 

and ground yourself."

"Mmhmm.. 

It can humble 

the ego of a man....

A moonlit night uncovers 

the true face of the universe. 

I would yearn to hear the music 

of the earth moving 

in the cosmic rubble 

on a thick, silent night."

"Just close your eyes 

and let it flow. 

Our souls are intertwined 

with the universe...

you will hear it, 

hear it loud and clear."