Life is beautiful

  Take whats given and go with it, Live whats Divine and know it is, Where did that river go, what ocean did you sink in? Drown with Grace my brother scream softly into the Abyss You are part of the infinite and there is only Bliss. The paths that you crossed the mountains that you climbed, The grass where you lay, the sun as it shined, The road with puddles, the bridge so unclean, Their words and actions,I try too hard to understand what every moment means . How similar are we in our differences ? How different are we when we think the same, Life is a journey on a winding road that brings me back to the same stop again.

  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.