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| My front yard at night |
The pain of life is aggravated by a flicker of beauty here, a glimmer of
love there, and an occasional touch of compassion here and there. If love went
invariably unrequited, if filth was all that one could see around, and if insensitivity
was the universal rule, we would learn not to expect anything better.
Every flower that blooms in my little garden gives me the impetus to keep
fighting the weeds. The weeds are vindictive. They keep smothering the flower
plants incessantly. It is far more facile to buy flower pots from the nursery
and line them up on my drive walls. But those flowers don’t smile as do the
ones that I nurture personally.
The struggles of the little saplings against the mighty weeds remind me
of the terrors that life throws along the way. If there were only terrors and
their disgrace, however, heaven and hell would have been redundant notions. Where
there is only agony, there can be no concept of bliss. But life loves to poke
fun at us with the little trickles of honey offered as we hang from the wizened
branch hoping to save ourselves from the snarling tiger beneath.
The sculptor goes on sweating blood at the monstrous mass of granite in
order to carve graceful beauty out of it. Is the granite heaven? Or is it hell?
I was standing outside home in the diaphanous shimmer of the distant
moon when came flying a dot of light. The firefly alighted on my shoulder. It
whispered something in my ear. The darkness is my reality, it said. My light is
my existence.
Is it alright to separate flower and weed? They are part of the same system. It is like society where both good and bad co-exist.
ReplyDeleteBut the weeds overpower the flowers and plants! That is how the society is too!
DeletePoignant and moving words that emphasize our life struggles.
ReplyDeleteप्रà¤ावी !!!
ReplyDeleteशुà¤à¤•ामना
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