I bow my head to a rose that willingly grows in a territory of weeds and imbues it with her splendors. Perhaps she leads a blown-away seed to a new home, a new beginning like which our society should truely consider as a first stride of the therapy. I imagine a world with a unique aim: to ease the aching, to save the breaking, to abate pain, to halt disdain, to resist iniquity, and to disseminate amity. But my expectations have failed me again. I never meant to let go; I never mean to. As I got busy gathering ruins that have disintegrated, my devotion betrayed me for rare moments. All of me yearned for eagerness of a child's glance when walking his very first steps, for rapture of nightingales' chirping, for luxury of a sprout as early morning dew tickles its petals, for pleasantness of a summer breeze, for pureness of snow as it gradually covers mountain tops, for peace of dawn. Were I an external observer, I would have described my anticipations as show-offs while watching how they grow higher with every flop. I wonder if they might ever reach a peak. And while the answer to my wonders stays vague, all the crumbling shall be in vain.
wafaa.
Maybe this new year is the time when these weeds should be removed so that the rose keeps on glowing beauty
Posted by
Michael Khatcherian |
12:09 PM
Hope always blossoms to nourish our spirits Mike. I'll keep on believing, I am sure you will as well.
Posted by
wafaa |
1:14 PM