Of that, or this, so declared!
This is about the interim ( the in-between, spectrum of life,) marking its own, for that “beyond,” to unleash ! Dream,Believe,Do and Repeat!

If I were to exist ,by far, in no other than the interim and seen as myself, then, here’s “I,” more or less, as that ONE ☝️—preceding, deeply moving and proceeding thro’ that temporal zone, fully possessed, to know more. It’s about the things that make me dream 💭 and in that waking dream think about the victories and the challenges as I experience them as a day dream put off , or at most, from twilight dims.
And as for the enquirers this entry could chronicle aa a poetic forage which directly or indirectly tends to draw out the precious life. Also, in the center of all and the object of all is this indescribable consciousness —a heirloom upon which one can curiously review everything in the light of their own intentions.
Meaning —how our souls love to receive the dawn -dazzle of life, casting away backward glances, only to find itself adapting to ( in most degrees, growing out of it) new changes. Yes, I am talking about the new world of awakenings received with joy and faith.
In these lines I have lain myself
unfolding into others, quite changed of my own “ego,” identity and projected it towards fellow humanity.
In that sense, consider the glows and glories of this illustrious poetic form depicting “PRECIOUS life,” which belongs to every real thing.
O! Precious Life!
Ah! fleeting hope, flittering fire
Is thou oafish as a quenchless briar
Thirsty, perhaps, for long, so mired
Yet, in every nature spread so to inspire
That you must behold that entire desire-
Within which renews hope thro' heartless quagmire
As grating gropes over gurgling gyres
Ebbing in flow as some embodied empire
Unto that, bellying long, those flown off spires
As clustered congeries over cloistered choirs
O! Must you lie bare upon death beds so expired
Seemingly dropping a thousand dirges over deathly pyres
But, for the spirited souls thickened by dire
It's all an illusion which they pledge not to ever acquire!
For the flesh so camped in rubies and lodged sapphires
When post -personified, it waves its final flags as in an esquire;
Finally bidding adieus to everything that coexists to equally transpire
! O Precious Life !
Co-concurring off the hook, as though on a timely spire...
How upon innocence you gently conspire
As faith so ardent rolls its' own ardent hope —so dire
Dear Reader,
Know this, for sure, without the limiting surface, forced less or more into depths —here is a special demand made upon you. As you participate in this poetic journey with me please affirm that you shall unleash your imaginative (unreal,) capacities. In this way a continuous presence but now fixed in time, must be re-imagined in a new , continuous present. Thusly the consciousness of existence from real to unreal passes in time, constructing a continuity out of the discontinuity created by time as we are passing the life. By doing so the reader shall feel the grace such so: she mused, therefore ,I am .”
And by perceiving so —give yourself a little time to be or not to be, fully here.
Lie over — ever in a round —encircling that— beginning and the end, and then merge with it, consciously aware.
It’s the “ middle ,” as far as it grows and that —which must really show!
A State of being, decidedly centered, yet nakedly bare !
Interim : It’s an enigma which fills in the “ present,” without knowing what’s going to come next. Just like the concurrence of the real to the unreal, one moment rolls into the next with no clue of what’s going to happen next.
In time or otherwise, it all appears,as though, one is fully prepared for the future.
But unexpectedly here comes a space.
A void—perhaps,
where cold fits in equally, as well; duly stitched, fully dressed, appearing suddenly out of nowhere.
Then again, as the Heedless—interim, comes and goes, fleetingly,
For in it bears precious life, all hoarded, in all thy cares
Of that calm —lain over nothingness ….duly spared, and everywhere,
Wave upon wave in silence it keeps nothingness up in the air
And of that inevitable, ever present to take on its final dare
Much as the spirit gets flown, much over that eternal, beyond compare
Hey there, here’s a place where the interim meets to get all mixed up with hope residing already out there
O Come along! O full phantom hope —draw close , pour thy prayers around us — as if it must now be cheerily spared
As unborn deeds imagined as above over troubled despair
O fresh giver —like the running river flowing through
Yea are beyond compare!
Concluding thoughts:
O ! Heavenly counsel ! Were these ☝️ those verses—the very ablutions, received to get us out to nowhere …. A void !
Dear Reader, you decide !
©Madhu Goteti, September 11th, 2025
About the Creator
Madhu Goteti
The thrums in the strums and the delights in the humdrum of life have always fascinated me.
It’s that feast of reason and flow of soul; in all that I see and all that I shall behold!
I am an avid lover of art and philosophy!



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