Dead poet society has many gooseflesh moments and the characters bear an effigy of an aesthetic spirit that has a respect and estoric eye to appreciate the songs in the heart.The poetic allusions in it forces to fly and look beyond the things that seem too trivial.The philosophies appear coming straight from the core of the heart connected with a golden thread of thoughts that sometimes revert back without being surfaced.The fear of the boys,their hesitation,frustration and all other sternness got washed away once they started to open up their vials of ambrosia in the form of speech,their acts,their confessions and their way of living a true life compassionately.
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Everybody see things and feel the clime but those who let their hearts touch the same are blessed with the benison of creativity that allows them to listen to the mumbles,whispers,frozen noises and breezing stories in the cosmos cause they never die.I must have lived long back somewhere in a similar or different land with an ecstasy of humanity seeking the wisdom from the book of life at each stage and adding few pages to it.Turning the pages of the same book today,I get signs too often that cerebrations and ideas too are chronological.They are repeated under different circumstances which we may call as ages.But the fact that an euphoria of singing hearts stay alive forever is categorical.In the kaleidoscopic world of rife whirpools we can easily lose ourselves without having any prophetic call.We can find a room filled with all posiible colours and luminosity to construe a different world in each colour or a field containing crops of words that can be reaped with the occult philosophies and bowed again in a new season,or a mire of poetic lustre where the loam can be kneaded with a touch that gets engrossed to the soul inside.Expressions are like philters of magic sprinkling a surreal effect once arrayed to give a form of a beautiful writing which we can own as one of the most precious and priceless asset.
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"old times-a flying,
the same flower that is smiling today,
tommorrow will be dying"
how beautifully poet intoduces a fear of ephemeral life and a motivation to seize the day ,the present moment.
What if tommorrow neve comes,will I be able to face myself again for I never kissed you the way I wanted to,for I never held you tight in my arms and explained how much I cared for you,for I never looked into your eyes to see my own reflection,for I never said sorry for the things I really was,for I never told you the things my heart nagged again and again to confess.Life seems too short once we realise that it is too long to be all alone.We love to love but we often do not dare to dare and this nature often breaks hearts of people in the guilt of not fulfilling our own desires and of others for not being a part of their desires.
We live in a world of complications,feelings seem pirated and people like the pirates of the ecstasy .The pleasantness and enchantment that resides somewhere inside making us robust and practical yet grounded and soulful spins around a dilettante goofing around to dislodge the feign of banality.Work outside,come back in your own little world ,relax and enjoy all the shades the life has dabbled:seems hard and needs an effort to be on the razor's edge or continue a retreat like that.The hymns we compose contain the image of that knight who symbolises the greatness of a human fighting the battle of life everyday using the arms and tools he gathers through experience and truth which he strongly believes would let him maintain the balance between what he really is and what he ought to be to flatter the being and respect his existence on earth...
Everybody see things and feel the clime but those who let their hearts touch the same are blessed with the benison of creativity that allows them to listen to the mumbles,whispers,frozen noises and breezing stories in the cosmos cause they never die.I must have lived long back somewhere in a similar or different land with an ecstasy of humanity seeking the wisdom from the book of life at each stage and adding few pages to it.Turning the pages of the same book today,I get signs too often that cerebrations and ideas too are chronological.They are repeated under different circumstances which we may call as ages.But the fact that an euphoria of singing hearts stay alive forever is categorical.
"old times-a flying,
the same flower that is smiling today,
tommorrow will be dying"
how beautifully poet intoduces a fear of ephemeral life and a motivation to seize the day ,the present moment.
What if tommorrow neve comes,will I be able to face myself again for I never kissed you the way I wanted to,for I never held you tight in my arms and explained how much I cared for you,for I never looked into your eyes to see my own reflection,for I never said sorry for the things I really was,for I never told you the things my heart nagged again and again to confess.Life seems too short once we realise that it is too long to be all alone.We love to love but we often do not dare to dare and this nature often breaks hearts of people in the guilt of not fulfilling our own desires and of others for not being a part of their desires.
We live in a world of complications,feelings seem pirated and people like the pirates of the ecstasy .The pleasantness and enchantment that resides somewhere inside making us robust and practical yet grounded and soulful spins around a dilettante goofing around to dislodge the feign of banality.Work outside,come back in your own little world ,relax and enjoy all the shades the life has dabbled:seems hard and needs an effort to be on the razor's edge or continue a retreat like that.The hymns we compose contain the image of that knight who symbolises the greatness of a human fighting the battle of life everyday using the arms and tools he gathers through experience and truth which he strongly believes would let him maintain the balance between what he really is and what he ought to be to flatter the being and respect his existence on earth...
