You’ll find me.

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Must death always find its way to us?

A paper full of memories, I don’t want to kill it. 

Find me.

Look for me in the depths of the unknown,

In the hidden secrets of the soul.

In broken pieces and forgotten places.

I’ll be her.

The one clad in silk, or maybe in nothing.

The one living solitary, beneath the snow.

Who’s lover, he; din’t even know!

Find me in the dates of of this mortal world,

in the breath of your sweetheart.

In the reflection of that broken glass,

I’ll be the one.

Crying in the closet of your majestic wooden house.

In the aging of  the tree,

in the ruins of the world.

In khadi and silk,

woven not produced.

Touched, felt and embraced by a thousand!

I’ll linger in the haunting scents of your once present

I’ll be the one banging on the doors of your memory 

The leaf in the snow.

Not beautiful, no never! Alone.

Take me in now,

So when you touch, do you feel a thousand others more?

You don’t possess me, you never can.

I’m wild and free.

I’m pen and paper.

I’m written and unwritten

Told and forgotten.

His memory shall remember,

when his past shall haunt.

Don’t hide too far,

This is home, I am home.

Yet, you’ll chase me and forget me

and once again; remember me.

Centuries would pass.

What’s my struggle is your victory,

my love now your hate.

my present and your past.

It’s not a different world,

it’s the same.

When you embrace me, 

when you cut that tree,

when you’ll write that letter,

you’ll know me,

oh! I promise.

You’ll find me!

 

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A Drop Of Uniqueness

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 Fearful dense grey clouds scream out loud, begging for attention. Disturbing the peace of so many living beings down there, it forgets where it originally  got it’s source of strength from. The oceans below, still remain below and yet higher.

With every moment ,giving a part of itself to these majestic being, or that’s what they appear to be.
Out of the intense anger and fierce barking out of them, and between the thunder strikes falls a little drop; he’s a little being, fragile and scared. Unknown to this world.
No one to call his own, no one to whom he belongs. Or does he? Technicality is different, reality is another. Who is to nurture him and teach him his fate?
He steps down slowly, actually falling, wondering where gravity would take him. Alas! Foolish was  he for he tried to hold on to the air and wind that crossed his paths now and then. Little did he know how it feels to let go of something you love so dearly , or when you try to depend upon something other than yourself.
He journeyed down still hoping, learning and watching. He could feel the same wind that once comforted him giving him intense pressure and pain.

Growing…

There were others like himself, drops of H20 making their way into the giant mass of rocks , soil and water. He wondered if they knew their destination or purpose of being but later he forgot about all the intense questions. The pain was unbearable, for gravity pulled him so strongly and the air pressured him.

In the world of complexity and materialism we forget the real questions of our actual being, the  question of who we really are and to whom we really belong. We forget.

So there he was travelling, his curiosity long gone. Misery upon himself.

He felt something shaking dramatically, something that almost killed him. He looked around and wondered, it wasn’t the air and it wasn’t the rocks below or the grey clouds above. This time it was him, changing.

From a little drop of water, he became a beautiful white web of being. He felt as though his confined self had discovered wings, like a butterfly was fluttering out a cocoon. What was this? Who was he?

The question had returned and now his destiny fulfilled.

He was now a  snowflake, not just a snowflake a beautiful, unique, self confident independent being.

The air, wind, clouds, pressure had transformed him, and the confusion made him confident.

He wasn’t just a drop of water and he didn’t look like the others anymore. He was different, he was now the true him.

So now his purpose is fulfilled, and his destiny lay back to where it belonged, in the ocean. Back, to where he belongs.