Dawn

It is 6.20 am. And I can hear many birds chirping away. I am not in London anymore. These are the birds from home.
I can only think of all the pigeons that have died in Jedi's house right now. It's like a dream from a bad movie.
I'm trying really hard to sleep but I can't. Its when you try too hard, you cant sleep. I tried reading Readers Digest, but even the boring inspirational stories about finding peace wont help.
And now a horrible car is reversing in the next building, with the irritating shrilly music.
So what exactly does one do at 6 am, with no sleep? Write a bizarre blog post I suppose. Sleep.
Wake up and realise all the emails and blog posts you wrote were a dream or a bad mistake.
This one will probably get deleted Since the blog is after all about London. Not Bombay.
The sun is shining now. I'll go take a walk and try to whack the dog that is barking away in the background.

Auguries of Innocence (Edited version)

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.


A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.

He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.

The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

William Blake