“Titles” and Us..

3LineTales

Thanking Sonya for the post/prompt. Thanking Davide Cantelli for the photograph.

“We have read so many eyes, faces, felt fingers. We recognize each our readers with a title here.

Each of us, each of our pages, words, letters, characters and even each space knows volumes about our titles.

However, silence is all that we would prefer, for what to say about the different titles, when we are all defined most aptly by the all-pervading spirit”

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Egalitarianism – Forced!

A King’s death
Would be a story of valor
Would be mourned; Ends a chronicle

A Queen’s death
Would be a story of sacrifice
Would be a heartache

An Aristocrat’s death
Would be the need of the hour
Would be saddening

A Pawn’s death
Would be assumed to happen
Would be a duty fulfilled

During their lives a discrimination was caused in their standard of living, their labour, stature and recognition

But, fascinatingly death normalized it all and made soil out of them. Archaeologist, till date, haven’t been able to differentiate between their soil or as to whom it belonged to!

I wonder if there could be egalitarianism prior to being forced into it?

What Young isn’t and is..

Young isn’t ‘not old’
Young isn’t age-associated
Young is beyond ageing.

Young isn’t growing
Young isn’t decaying
Young is beyond processes.

All I am is an Experience

A tickle in the centre of my bald head
A paining stomach
A noisy crowd at a bus station
A scene of people rushing around the buses
An aroma when I pass the tea stall
A ginger tea that I sip while waiting for my bus
A warm cup that my fingers sense
A thought that arises to let my mother know that I am coming home
A memory of when we met last
An imagination of meeting her at the door and seeing her surprised
A feeling of longing making me teary

All is, but an experience.

Fabric and Numbers – Story of our time

On a handkerchief it’s owner marked 5 numbers from one to five: 1,2,3 and 4 at four corners and 5 at the centre. The purpose of labelling was unknown to the numbers.

The Pendulum..

From this extreme
To that
The pendulum swings.

Your intangible presence..

I don’t have you anymore,
But, what does that even mean?
I have lost your physical presence,
In that, your ‘form’ no more exists,
As it once did.
But, were you form alone?
Or, was there more of you?
May be that which they call ‘spirit’?