It is not when you win that you lose, it is when you lose that you win. When the first season of spring brings out an awe in the child, the mother can only feel joy in her loss-the loss of turning the child to the ultimate mater-nature-she who shows genesis and the last judgment at one stroke.
But the win is always the mothers', for she is gifted ,and the gift need not be from her womb for just like there are women unable to create, there are children unable to live in the arms of their creator. Fate always smiles the last smile of creating the mother and child, if not by the cry of birth, then by linking two souls for a moment which lasts forever.
In life, you do not lose, You gain-from a stolen moment here or there, from a secret smile, a light sigh-maybe from the shaft of light from the ventilator or the music of rippling water as the breeze blows over. You win nevertheless
He believed in that now. He believed in it, even as she turned away, watching the rays falling on the metallic sheen of the sundial. He had to believe he had won, in this loss somehow and it would all be alright. That the human mind can be superior in power and strength than the human body is a possibility entertained by both philosophy and psychology. This is tested each day-and reinstating the faith in the human mind, more often than not, this idea endorsed holds true.
He moved his gaze from her to the sundial which had taken a halo of its own bathed in the afternoon glow. Life is beautiful…not worth losing, he thought. All around him, life whispered its magic. But the most precious to him, what he had believed was his life so long, stood beside him, so distant, so strained that he was afraid to reach out
Fear is a strange feeling. It engulfs you with the ultimate mist at the same time messing about with your vision and granting you immense strength, strength to fight back; to make or break. He waited for her to say something but silence reigned. In the silence, his fear rose like a soaring white bird. In vain he tried to quell down the waves of despair that rocked his very being.
In one life we live many lives. But why is it that of all these lives, it is only one that we hold very close to our heart? And we look for that life in someone else and make that individual the embodiment of that life. But a human is free- free to come and go, to live or to die-to protect or to kill. And one may stand by and watch that life go tumbling out of reach or implore. For all human hearts are kind. Is love this giving up of all to the hands of another? He did not know. He could only wait, hearing the beat of his heart, as he waited for her to speak. Patience after all is a virtue. And he was a virtuous man.
the child ran around the sundial .the silver sheen of the night kissed the surface.. he reached out to touch the sundial tentatively. smooth and cool, the metallic surface seemed to beckon him. he would have to be in bed soon, but like a dear old friend this sundial called out to him. Soon, his mother would walk up to him and he would turn towards her, for then they would behold the sky-the home of all light
~ whenever you find darkness in you, look for the stars like they shine tonight
As he waited, he looked for these stars now. He tried to connect the points, but now in the silence, the constellations would not form. Inside him, darkness reigned.
His love was not prone to testing. His love was to accept, not to question. For here too, fear danced on the edges - the fear of not having a suitable answer
