Krishna dusted the furniture diligentlyThe sun streamed into the early Delhi morningAs she lifted the phone on the stand to clean under itIt let out a squeak from the pullingI listened to the sudden sound –It struck something – a note A familiar note somewhere withinAs I felt it sink, I recognized the noteMy silent deep sighIt escaped
I just read about a cancer patient – a young 18 year old who lost his life to cancer. But he did it while fighting back and living life. Sometimes when I read these stories, I am ashamed I ever complain about my life. When people live life “inspite of” , it makes you wonder if you are using all your gifts, if you are making the best of what you have.Isn’t there a song that says – Live like like you were dying.. Do something new today!
I had a thought today : Why is it that most writers are mostly such melancholy souls? Is it because, even though they write stories, they cannot write their own. Even though they create fiction, they cannot create their own reality?
When the little girl finally grew up, the elders said to herNow that you are all grown upAnd you know about values and morals and belief and faithWe take it all backThose were things nice to knowBut the truth of life is a little coldValues, those are compromisableMorals, those are adjustableYou can hope, but be ready to hurtAnd belief – lets warn you about thatDon’t believe in what you don’t see – ever
If you were to keep your heart and mind open, what would you find room for?
A drop of water fell from aboveOn the scorched dry earthIt felt like the ocean Look upBut, the relentless sky gives no moreWill the earth breathe from the strength of the dropOr will it die from the hope of the deluge?
Hear Walls around Closing inHow much longerDo you have to breathe?It is silentSo silentYou can hear your breathQuivers and startsDeep and tryingHow much longer until the last?
Here’s to GratitudeThat feeling that embracesIn final superiorityIn times of peaceAnd timeless quietFor letting me pass byBe a part ofLife
Rescue Effort She tried once againTo resuscitate in vainDead musclesCold skinStone heartSo she gives up nowDeath should be gracefulOf the Body or Spirit
About a Vase Broken pieces of coloured ceramicGlued together into a shapeOf a Vase that wasStumble, WobbleBut continue to holdTo fulfill a destinyTo be
Qtn: What would you do If you wereCursedTo always wantBut never haveTo always dreamBut never seeTo long to touchTo yearn to belongTo desire to enterLifeBut always lurk outsideAn Enchanted Gateway Ans:Ask for the password
When all the layers of fears, insecurities, hopes, dreams, imaginations, desparate wishes, obsequious prayers are taken away – you are left with just one thing – A beautiful Emptiness.
Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live – Anais Nin Now my thoughts – Strange thing about hope is – it never leaves you. Somewhere in the crevices of life – however rocky it is, it wedges itself waiting patiently to sprout. Sometimes in colors and forms unknown- unimagined. Hope is the seed of life.
Can you live your life in a dreamWhere you create everythingWhere you are in controlWhere your desiresTake forms of fulfillmentEven before they are spoken ofWhere dissapointment are woven in tooTo add some colorBut when something becomesUnbearableAll you need to doIs wake up
Don’t you feel sometimes like you are clutching at sand? Every relationship around you stays only a while like a visiting guest. When even you yourself change with every passing moment, what do you hold on to? Is there anything that stays?