Clambering on upon the fractal trunk

Clambering up the tree,
I pause, hugging the trunk,
and reminisce, as time flies,
seeing how far I’ve come,

The roots are far, earthbound,
set in steadfast soil,
and I stare at the long knurled path,
with human hands gripping the bark.

These hands of mine, my body machine,
The bless’d chariot to carry me,
as I float for eternity,
climbing up under the starry sea

I tear my gaze from the ground,
and crane my neck, glancing up,
The trunk stands tall, old oak,
piercing the horizon, a wheel spoke,

Fractal branches, fracturing in the sky,
at each end, a fate of mine lies,
I know not the end, nor the path,
and I clamber on, through the clouds dark.

The multitude of leaves shine and glimmer,
Iridescent, bright, pastel, and shimmer,
each leaf a goal, a life to the end,
where the body is left, and the soul ascends.



Hello, fellow followers!

Life is no easy parade for any of us, invariably we humans have a tendency to bring ourselves up to the level of our problems, or perhaps  it would be better said as “each person rises up to the height of their inefficiency”, but I feel even that falls short of describing the issue. Safe to say, we all have our worry-line engraving events, and no shortage of concerns.

I’ve been a little quiet on this medium as of late, life’s been catching up in more ways than one, and in it I wrote this poem a few months back. You can’t know the future, besides what subjective predictions you make, but even then in the face of absolute uncertainty in a tumultuous time, you must keep moving on, forward unto dawn. While stewing in my mind, I was reminded of an excerpt by Sylvia Plath, illustrated here in by skilled Gavin Aung Than.

Zen Pencils – Sylvia Plath: The Fig Tree

The takeaway here is, life spares no one, if you ain’t got it tough, then further down will be rough. Keep on moving forward, and never stop learning.

See you soon,




(cover image created using



Poem: Ancient Bones

Ancient Bones

We walk through the bones of Titans of old,
Hallowed constructions and structures bold,
The ebb and flow of time’s seep,
Has sunk these ruins into ancient sleep,

Those fantastical buildings, Marvel’s of man,
Designed and built as a gigantic plan,
But those times have come and long gone,
These shells stand, while time moved on,

Magnificently ornate towers to a deity,
But a measure of time’s brevity,
Science and Industry, a global net,
Cannot avoid their temporal debt,
Populous cities so wide and tall,
But all within Time’s gaze are small,

The withered husks of these men, blown
By the span of time exceeding their own
For even the mightiest empire is weak to time
And ceases to exist, at the clock’s chime.

-Adithyaa Raghavan


Hello, Saturday!

Do you know the feeling of walking in a place that has been steeped in time? Like walking through old castle ruins, dilapidated amusement parks, ghost towns, and the like? Just thinking about it, or glancing at a few pictures, is enough to drown you in it’s history. You can feel the stories seeping out of the stones, and the greens and grasses creep up to your ears to whisper of the souls who once walked these roads.

I can’t quite describe the feeling succinctly, I don’t know if there’s a word for it. “Waldeinsamkeit” is a german word for “the feeling of being lost in the woods”, which I think can be applied in a positive or negative tone, but I don’t think it fully covers what I mean to convey.

Imagine walking down a road in a city like Chernobyl, seeing weathered buildings and structures worn down by the passage of nothing but time itself. You start to catch glimpses into the past, imagining children running around a playground, men and women walking down the street, vehicles whizzing by. The ghostly memories can feel so vivid you’d swear that you were hallucinating them into existence. Just like that, the life of the city was blown out, and naught but the structures remain to quietly inform you of that which was.

I had a very similar experience when I was recently playing Heart Machine’s masterpiece, Hyper Light Drifter. In fact, looking back at this poem, which I wrote long before the video game was ever released, I can see strong resonance between the two. I don’t recall the circumstances under which I wrote this poem, but I do know that it came from the heart, which explains why I enjoyed Heart Machine’s game so much.

Anyhoo, Thank you for your time, roam, immerse yourselves in the places you visit, and see if you can take a peek through time wherever you go.




Poetry: Reminiscing on past poetry

Hello, Sunday! Monday!

Today we’re in for a special post, I’ve managed to locate some old poetry of mine, and so for this and the next two posts I’ll be sharing my old poetry written some years ago. Let’s get started,

The Wonder of Nature

In the forest rose the pines,
Overlooking the golden mines.
There, swinging from tree to tree,
Was a great big grinning chimpanzee.

As it swung from here to there,
It had a spied a grizzly bear.
And it started up the call,
Which sounded like a bored drawl.

Others took up the cheer,
Warning all not to come near.
Then the chimp from tree to tree,
Jumped and hooted with sheer glee!!

-Adithyaa Raghavan

I have no idea how my 14 year old self managed to land a poor chimp in a coniferous forest. I recall I wrote this poem shortly after learning that many species of apes communicate using sounds to warn each other of danger. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this post, and stay tuned metaphorically for next week’s poem.

Signing out,


Poem: The Cage of our Minds

Our existence is ethereal,
formless, intangible, surreal,
and within this mortal body confined,
lies our self, in the cage of our mind.

Words may shake, but are just jitters
that the cage of your mind embitters,
causing your self to fritter,
unhealthy thoughts, like mental litter.

Awaken and rise, it’s simple you see,
and yet it’s the hardest thing to be
the master of your mind, conscious self
finally dusted off its shelf.

That is Will, your only power,
by which your self will tower,
or by the same, will cower,
Unknown, a trampled flower.

Experience joy and sorrow,
the past and tomorrow,
your heart as the horse,
and your brain at the reins.

Shine your mind, burn like a star,
shed brilliant light near and far,
Rid your self of mental tar,
and crown yourself your self’s tsar.


Hello, Sunday!

It’s been a while, life’s been keeping me well occupied. I find that one of the most important things to achieve in life is control over oneself. It’s ‘easy’, but also well neigh impossible, which is the tricky part.

See everyone next week!


Poem: Earth

The State of Earth

Towering piles of waste,
Reaching towards the sky,
With poison and toxins laced,
The earth itself, begins to die.

The rule of man is cruel,
and apathy is abound,
We shut our eyes,
and close our ears to the noise around,

of the earth’s clamorous cries,
and that of our fellow man,
We wallow in our bread and circuses,
and blame our fate upon “god’s plan”.

The power of man is great,
He can create and destroy,
but his greed will not abate,
Till the planet runs dry.

Each man, woman and child,
We must turn ourselves around,
and see the devastation dealt,
to our green and blue round.

There may be other lands,
Near far away stars,
but this sand, this soil,
tis naught but ours

We, the people, have been led,
by thieves and crooks,
till our earth has bled,
and dry, run the brooks

There is yet time,
There is yet hope
and we hold within ourselves
The power to make amends,

Each and Every Human,
Rise and open your minds
The earth is ours, so grasp the pen of god,
and let us be the author of our fate.

Helloo, SUNDAY OF ’16! I mean 17!

Here’s to another lap around the sun, and to a few months of writing 16, scratching it out, and then awkwardly scrawling in 7 instead.

This particular poem was written in July of 2014, and has a very SUBTLE message. I wrote this with a different sense of rhythm, trying to go for a more asymmetrical approach, although personally I prefer poems with neat, structured rhyming sequences.

Let’s hope that this solar lap is better than the last one, see all of you 1/52th of a year later!

Cycling away,


Poem: The Tyranny of Time

The tyranny of time

To the beings of earth,
To the stars in the sky,
To all t’were birth’d,
To all yet to die,

The tyranny of time,
reigns o’er us all,
o’er the bone and stone,
o’er the giant and the small.

All things but man,
live in a state o’ bliss,
for tis only man,
Who bound time’s manacle to his wrist,

With the fleet foot of the first,
With the slow step of the second,
With the tardy tread of the third,
Triplicate handed time turns till infinity

Man burns his time and health,
to earn his wealth,
and then he has health and wealth,
but lacks in time,
and in his twilight chime,
He has time and wealth,
and no more his health.


Helloo, SUNDAY!

Much machinations and the occasional expletive emanate from my lab, as I continue wrestling with Eta to gently bludgeon the last few flaws out, and then try dealing with the other mountian-load of work I’ve self assigned. I feel like I’m in a constant race against time, practically hearing my lifeclock click every second away. I’m always in two balanced minds about most things, and time is one of those things which both halves can agree that I need a bit more of. Just like a watering can, we can keep pouring time onto our little garden, trying to rear it the best we can, within our lifespan.

Signing off,

Adithyaa Raghavan

Poem: The Oasis

A harsh sun rises over the foreign land,
an endless waste of stone and sand
In the night, the animals wake
shriek and shiver, bark and bay,
but in this ocean of unrest
lies a oasis, a place blest,
a ring of palm round a pool,
filled with water, clear and cool,
a circle of tranquil in a sea of strife,
the image of peace, solstice’s wife,
the sun again, on its godly path,
once more, bares its burning wrath
and this refuge, a haven to all
sinks and melts into the squall.

-Guess who? ding ding ding, -Adithyaa

Hellloo SUNDAY,

Here is an old poem o’ mine, hailing from 4 years ago, 15 december 2012. Ironically, I wrote and blogged a poem about the desert during the middle of winter. If the increasingly discombobulated weather doesn’t affirm climate change to you, I don’t know what will.

Do interpret this poem as you will, I can’t quite remember what was going through my head at the time myself, so the most creative interpretation will be chosen as the official one 🙂

signing off,