When I read today’s daily prompt, the first thing that came to my mind was my Mother. For me, the epitome of elegance and grace is this one amazing lady.
This person of incredible generosity. The woman who knows how to forgive, how to remain steadfast in adversity and still wear that gorgeous smile of hers. God didn’t allow this world to blemish your light. I hope He treats me with same kindness. We may have our differences, we may have a different threshold and response to fear, but if I can learn to be as patient with people as you’re, I’d consider myself a happy seasoned person.
I’ve never said this to you. But Im proud to look upto you. You’re the warmth to my world.
The most jolly existence in this world is that of the wind. Maybe its attributable to its nomadic lifestyle. Always blowing, somewhat cocky, shaking everything on its way. Making its presence felt not by form but by impact.
Carrying with it the scents of earth, and roses and dirt.
Does it envy us? Does it dwell homes? Guess we’ll never know!
I envy you, dear winds!
Wanting things we know we can’t have. Once in a while sneaking into dark alleys of our mind we know we should keep at bay, holding our breath, quietly, casually, pretending to not care but in reality looking direly to find a workable way out. Even though we’ve been there a hundred times, even though we know its a solid concrete. Maybe we can sing a lil something that pleases God and a stone falls out and we see that beloved, piercing streak of light. Oh the light that is worth years of blindness.
Or maybe another day.
Sanity is overrated. We’re all known by our degree of eccentricity.
We all want to be understood. At some point, and I hope not perpetually, we’ve all felt the pain of being misunderstood. But none of us want to be the pioneer in this process of understanding each other.
To understand despite being misunderstood takes courage and returns peace. The peace we all felt being robbed off after a conflict. The peace we’re willing to travel miles to find. That inner peace is nowhere else to look for, it lies right in the heart of the conflict, but we’re too blinded by our own egos to realise that.
We’ve all already tried repelling, walking away from our conflicts, and we’ve lost a part of ourselves in the process. Perhaps, now is the time to understand that either of us can be the first one to break this chain. We can be the first one to comply, atleast try, like they say how do you know you don’t like it if you don’t even try? Maybe we don’t hate it that much, maybe, and quite unexpectedly, it takes us a step closer to our desires.
There is no such happiness that takes away the peace of another person. And anyone of us can be the first one to realise that. There is nothing saintly about it, it’s just being human.
For a senseless egoistic lass as myself, ego is my nest.
It comforts me, nurtures me, protects me from the external world. I could take a false impression of home in it, and thus keep myself from flying.
When in reality, I’m only fooling myself. The only way to adapt to the changing seasons is by leaving your nest; flying away from self when the time is right. Perhaps the greatest obstacle in the way of your flight is the one of your making. The day I learnt this principle, I learnt to set myself free.
The day I learnt to accept that someone else can be more important to me than my own narcissistic self, I learnt to love.
There she was, standing again at the edge of the cliff. The only way forwards is through a hair-like thin substance of a rope serving as the bridge.
She would still have flashbacks of old days. Apparently her scars were not as filled as she thought they‘d be. She was still very vulnerable. Still very scared.
And still the only way for her was way forwards.
So she stood there, quietly absorbing all this energy. Staring into mist, trying to visualise the other end of the edge. It was not the finality, she was dubious about, it was the course she had to take to reach that. It was a blind leap of faith. Yet again. Suddenly all her scars were lit, accompanying her on the journey like an unwanted caravan of chaotic pilgrims.