Wednesday, December 16, 2009


The old woman gazes into the mirror and counts the wrinkles on her face. For a brief moment she sees the face of a young girl, pretty and hopeful. Now the years had worn away both - beauty and hope. There is nothing more she looks forward to, except the wrinkles .

Under the shade of a tree sits an old man, a beggar, gazing, half asleep, at the distant horizon. Around him the sun beats with a whitish fury. Thoughtless and dreamless, he sits there, following only his instincts. When he feels hungry, he gets up and goes to beg. He eats what he gets and then returns to his daze.

Monday, December 14, 2009


And continuing the subject of Silence, an essential part of my Solitude, I treasure the Stillness.


Oh dearest Solitude!
Your silence stills my heart,
Yet sets my Self on fire:
Though you haunt me
With your varied visions,
You have opened new dimensions
For me to tread.
Though at times I do suffer,
The pangs of agony.
From the loss of company,
I know I can only be
Happy and content,
In that total detachment,
Only you can give.