I wonder if I would like to live the journey of the rain. There is a freedom in its fall, direction, unity and ends up moistening every form with its healing touch.
Or, would I like the journey of a road that bears the heat of the sun, the beat of the rain, the screeches and the weight of its passers by, but shares a glossy affection saved from a long time only to be spent away in a moment.
Or, would I like the journey of the street light that finds no onlooker through the day and whose existence remains overpowered, yet it finds no rest when it is the pitch black night just so that it can bring to life, everything that it surrounds.
Or, do I continue to be in my own journey that lets me be in awe of every other journey which I come across.
An empty seat awaits your presence and when you occupy it, I will be rowing you silently through an ancient route. You sit there on the other end of the boat and look around. As you will find me absorbed in rowing you choose not to ask me that one question and you keep it for later. Then when you gaze the grasslands and the infinite sky a shimmering golden breeze kisses your face and you feel strange. For you know this breeze and this recollection will make you feel like you know every pixel of what you see and you know every grain of your feeling. Like you know everything about everything here for ages. Like something is speaking to you and waiting for you to break your silence. Yet, your silence is your only language, your only means to express. You look at me and I raise my head. In the moment, something in us knows that a word will be too much. Your question drops. And, a wordless journey on an ancient route goes on..
What is the ground to the grass, water to thirst, mother to its baby, tree to the birds, sky to the stars and the sun to the moon?
Is it that one is and therefore the other becomes? May be.
But then, how would we acknowledge ground without grass, would there become a mother without being a baby, what is water’s value without a thirsty, a tree without the fluttering birds, how do you realize there is sky without the stars or know that sun exists at night without the moon?
There is no cause and effect here. Just the inseparables perceived from different spaces and at different times.
Walking gently into the night.. What’s left is these last drops of light..Soon the final shades of colors will become one.. Time is about to lose its significance and space is about to lose limits.. Nothing about my world will be carried forward.. My sorrows and my happinesses can accompany me till this gate alone, as “sleep” needs neither.. All that there exists now is an unending continuum, till my alarm goes on..
A bridge can go no far. And, a bridge will never give me the experience of what the sea or the sky feel like. All this wonderment about the surrounded beauty, and flowery lines of poetry is just plain talk and empty words devoid of a taste of the sky or the sea.
Loispiration in a nut-shell is an embodiment of inspiration here to give you an almost daily dose of critical thinking, hope and enlightenment. To change your perception on societal issues and help you point the mental development torch directly on yourself.