Life is beautiful

  A picture tells us nothing— not what is, not what was, not the smell, not the sound. A soul less glance at something, that something which, to some, is everything, and to an ascerbic man like me, is not anything. We smile. We pose ,in beautiful tailored clothes, against a beautiful background, I suppose, to look good for someone who knows very little of me— or how I feel about the world, about my life, about the heartfelt joys that survive through strife. I am a person. I have lived a life. Please— get to know the real me, not through a picture, not even through these words. Because in this shallow world of empty sight, every “like” on a photograph cuts—quietly— like a knife.

Immersed under water, Immersed in a song, Immersed in a moment— oh, what took so long? Immersed in my thoughts, drifting from the reality beside me. Immersed in prayer, in devotion so deep. Immersed in you, bound to these feelings— I’ve never felt so free. Through the wormhole to infinity, I close my eyes… and at last, I see.

That even in the moments of extreme darkness, I saw the ray of light. I saw the sun. I felt its heat on my face. That even in moments when they hurt you the most, You could see the elements of love, care, and kindness. Dipping my feet into these memory bowls across time, I feel the warmth, the heat and the cold. The stories, the emotions, the travels, the experiences, the pleasures, and the deep,deep hurt that has shaped me and my life into what I have become. No regrets. Some of us paint a picture for us to see ourselves, and reflect upon ,while  some of us paint a picture that inspires the world. My Heart is at Peace with my Garden and its many memory Bowls . As I sit here in my comfortable chair, sipping my warm, delicious coffee, my mind wanders across this beautiful garden with flowers and weeds and the green grass and soil. So many lessons to learn ,so many journeys that I have embarked on. I am thankful. I am blessed. I AM ALIVE.

  Do not live in fear, my dear The end is far, but the present is here Be clear and sincere always persevere With truth on your side, Let that anxiety and worry slowly disappear And on the days the distress is so severe -Hold this poem, so very near Regain your strength, and let it reappear Do not live in fear, my dear Do not live in fear

The brightest star burns so fast , The years that came and went did not last . Struggling with these passing years coming to grips with the reality of age, I am nothing more than ordinary, No rockstar on a stage.  The purpose of life is all I've got, at my own cost my Self worth I forgot. Not much to live for ,existence is a chore, Why do I not want anything anymore? Brighten the gray day, sprinkle some sun , Everyday is an end to a fake day that has just begun. Oh beautiful bird in the sky,  Take me on your back ,so I may fly so high , To be born again one has to die.

In the recent days, fate, luck, destiny, cause-and-effect, repentance, have all been circling around my conscience, like a planet orbiting a star. The recent loss of my uncle, who was relatively young, brought forth the meaning if there is any to our existence, how death will catch up with all of us and what we make of our lives in the short time we are here. I have lived my fair share of years and I've heard various reasons why people attach meaning and purpose to their lives. People live to be parents for their children ,to be children for their parents, some people live to be stewards of their profession, and to do good work that benefits mankind, some live one day at a time, without overthinking life, and some merely exist without any attachment, or maybe some have too many. It's hard not to want meaning and explanation of every event in our lives but sometimes it is not for us to see or know. And who is to say we are so much more than our fellow beings but of course, there...