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Love isn't in the air

 The laundry-washed clothes have a unique smell of freshness, the freshness of it being clean, the goodness of it being good to go again! The day seems newer with a fresh ironed cloth on the body, the body seems fresh with a new soaked approach for the day. The birds talk to me, the purple flowers stare at me, I blush when they do that and I think, how am I not over them already! I never get over them. Every single time they make me feel purple, even if it's just for a moment. It's the same with humans too, I suppose. People who make you feel purple are purple themselves, they have their own color, they have their own sun trapped glow. There is no one way of describing an early morning sunrise and so there's no one way to describe that purple feeling. Sometimes when you can't measure something in quantity, you aren't able to say how much gravity it holds in words, so you reply with a silent adoration for the ocean before you. I see the ocean in his eyes and when the
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Play the.....PAUSE..........**

I stepped on a dry curled leaf on the ground and the sound is somehow very satisfying. The brutal crunching makes way for easy assimilation of the dead leaf into the ground. I have watched the same leaf go from the small peachy pink size to the big vibrant green one followed by the sunny yellow attire!! And let me tell you that sums up the question of life for me in just seven words: EACH FORM OF BEING IS EQUALLY BEAUTIFUL.  The body lying on bed has witnessed the pink-green-yellow steps circularize ; credits to the window that allows the eyes to witness the tree, which sometimes looks like a painting in the canvas of a blue shade.  Sometimes waking up to a sight of life like that makes you happy and just for that moment everything about yourself seems enough. As usual as it may seem, to have your face washed by the morning rays of dawn, this regular thing is how life kisses you, soft and gentle. For a long time i have been kissed alive by the day and for a long time i haven't bee

```Yours Godly```

The sight of a red moon delights me so much about my life/my eyes that i feel relaxed in ways which makes me live, more lively. I simply fell in love with that moment when the time inside takes a pause to make me realize that it's a rare beauty, no matter how many times the night witnessed it. I never thought seeing the moon would make me obsessed about seeing the moon. Witnessing it is my way of knowing how much this god thing loves me.  It's a thing because that's what i have known it from my conditioning. It's a photograph in an assumable sacred place at my home, it's an orange or black or sometimes a beautifully designed body of stones and marbles in some other assumable sacred place at different parts of the world. I wholeheartedly appreciate the amount of art and literature invested in creating the different ideologies of this god thing, because all of that was somebody's ''work''. Somebody's sweat, blood and tears have been fossilize

I can wait...

Why is it that nothing particularly changes in the way sun rises or sets, and the moon is just as usual, always a feast in all of its shapes, and my grateful being, gets awestruck every single time. There is nothing new about the day we wake up to and yet we see the day as a new one even if it doesn't changes a leaf in our life. The night is just as black or grey as it should, acting as a complementing background for the moon and stars, and yet it traces us back to all the dreams and passions we religiously keep inside, like a night......that just doesn't turn into a day.   The reason why nature in all of her form and existence appears new even if it remains the same is because she exists for a purpose, not for an opinion. The simplicity with which she remains authentic, holds the foundation of the way she has evolved with time. Her worth doesn't rest on validation, because she is at rest and in peace with who she is. Having a purpose in life isn't determined at birt

Let's fear!

The best thing that happens in my day is when i find myself and my other selves alive, because the good in the morning is that we are, there in the morning. Of all the fears that we carefully amass, it's the fear of not being alive the next moment, that's taken very much for granted. Death is feared by everyone even-though it's a shared fate, and life being the brief stay, is assumed unlimited. I really fear not being alive, being extinct but not necessarily death.I don't think humanity is ever going to crack the formula for how to live a life, and i also think we don't need a full blown answer, we just need few hints, since the answer is- to each their own. One of the hint for that question is undeniably, fear, a definite one i believe.                                    There are a lot of things we are afraid of, or get scared by but fear is the only one,worth your attention.A child is ironically a fearless creature because there is more glee in trying the un

The beautiful in life!!..

The beautiful in my life does not attract me, it simply stuns my soul in a way that makes me realise that i have one, one of a kind. It's romantic to look into a mirror and try to see with your eyes ,what you look like. It's unfamiliarily easy to touch your reflection with your fingers; your eyes, the shade of grey underneath them, your lips,with their salmon inked dried crevices, your forehead, a perfect place for a touch of red love, your uncared hairs and their long time resentment with you, your cheeks and oh my goodness, the thing they turn into when you smile, it's so undescribably imperfect, making everything insensibly beautiful!!.The face is what you see, the way you see it, is what you look like. Like the breeze of warmth a 90s evergreen love song shower, a lively moment of your parents laughing, the crazy way of irritation your siblings evolve every minute, a random call from a friend who wants to talk to you, a friend next to you who just want you to talk, a l

For the love inside!

It occurred to me quite late in life what belief is, and i am still on my way of completely allowing myself to believe, that i believe me. No matter how fundamental the concept is, i keep revising it for most part of the time of my day, daily. It was a struggle at the beginning but now its an idea, waiting to be turned into a habit. Its a deliberate effort of a vulnerable heart to receive the backing of the brain, busy being an expert of realities. Thoughts are places i visit so often that i either forget coming back home or get too tired after i am back. Its the easiest way of flying when the winds cannot fill the wings or in my case of upsetting reality, the disguised blessing of not having the wings at all. Oh yes, i always knew i lack wings, like literally always. From the time when i feared standing up in a class to speak, to the time when i speak to a class, i always knew i lacked wings. But something is good about this fact, that its a fact, not a truth, well not my truth. I d