The Aghoris

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Upon reading this answer, someone asked me: Your heroes?
My answer: No. But I understand their quest. I understand the lusting for knowing the unknown that they do. I know the clarity of mind which is brought about. The absolute brilliance with which your mind rises above the mediocre and revels with the gods. Where it rises above time and space into the infinite, and you see yourself for the nothingness that you truly are. You see your decisions having no effect; you see the futility of conciousness. You see that nature's greatest gift to man is also their greatest curse.

People? Bah! Animals are better in most respects than those who profess to be better than them. Do you see what humans do? They destroy their mother. They kill each other. They kill other creatures (human arrogance). Why? So that they can feel like they have achieved something. And for what? Nought will come out of it all. The ultimate answer to the perennial human void is to become one with nature. Because from dust have we risen, and to dust shall we return.

But we don't get that. And so we wander on, closing ourselves off to our true nature, to our true selves. The selfish pursuit of our narrow goals will lead to the ultimate downfall of humanity. To our death as a species. Do you get it?

The tale of the manager

This is the tale of a manager,
Most perfect as can be found.
Her name spread around far and wide,
as the one who did not grind.

And employees came,
but they never left,
for her charisma,
Kept them all bound.

She made a world,
where you were all friends,
and office was a breeze;
all bonded together as one whole group,
and achieved your goals with ease.

There were no secrets in her team,
No silences to be found.
They laughed together,
and worked together,
to get significant results.

And employees came,
but they never left,
for her presence,
Kept them all bound.

Even if they came with a pot full of luck,
and an empty pot of skill;
she guided and prodded them on and on,
till by knowledge they were filled.

She told them their little mistakes,
and they in turn told her hers.
And the hobbits that joined her team,
Were now stalwarts in their field.

And employees came,
but they never left,
for her management,
Kept them all in bound.

Her results were exceptional,
She enabled them to succeed.
And her trust in all of them;
was just that which they need.

Her voice was clear,
as were her thoughts;
there was never any doubt.
And even if there were changes,
it was quietly done without flout.

And employees came,
but they never left,
for her trust,
Kept them all bound.

Freedom they were all given,
to excel and create.
Even wacky ideas still,
got a hearing till their fate.

After office, she let you free,
for she did know to let go.
After 6 after all,
you are under your home manager’s rule.

And employees came,
but they never left,
for her freedom,
Kept them all bound.

The crow's call

There came a sound of loud proportions,
A carrion cry of the uncounted legions;
Which sitting atop his high throne,
The dealmaker could not make undone.

He sat burdened by these thoughts of his,
Alive now in a reality shrouded by mist;
And peering out his window did he see,
A solitary crow perched upon a tree.

And the crow cawed in hoarse abandon,
Of the deeds to be done, under that sun.

The battlefield lay empty and bare,
Of all life there was none to care.
For corpses lay littered where lillies had been,
And scavengers roamed where once there was green.

Hyenas and vultures did share in the loot;
Their appetite did it splendid suit.
And amongst these was a single speck,
Of the darkest black, a raven sat.

And the crow cried in hoarse abandon,
Of deeds that were done, under that sun.

It started a spark,
Grew into a blaze.
The perpertuators gaze,
Smiled at the brown haze.

Untold lives were destroyed that day;
Such upon which human eyes never lay.
For their greed did blind to all but the sheen,
Of gold, solely worthy they deemed.

Barren land was all that was left,
Under the war machines handled so deft.
And the black spectre was present that day,
Mourning the loss of its home; its lay.

And the crow cawed in hoarse abandon,
For deeds that were done, under that sun.

The mother's answer came at last,
Her final cry was felt as a blast.
All in her quiver were called to bear,
The judgement for all from her ire.

Enough had she suffered the vagaries of creations,
The uncaring destruction by her children.
This was her last answer,
The cure to her own cancer.

The seas rose at her beckoning,
Slowly they crawled, ever consuming;
The ground shattered, swallowing,
For the clean slate she was making.

Up in the air, the realm of the tempests,
One as never seen before tested;
Gobbling up all it finds,
All-pervasive it shall grind.

Till the time when mother quiets,
And looks at the aftermath of her riots;
For guilt at seeing all being barren,
For they were bad, but were her children.

And no crow would caw in hoarse abandon,
For the deeds that were done, under that sun.