The Unborn never suffers. It never dies. It is still.. It lives in hush.
The born suffers. It dies. It is born again. It dies again. It is never still. It can never live in hush.
I am an aimless traveler between birth and death..
I have crossed the limit of mortal thought and hope. All shapes are beautiful. There is no ugliness. Nature is beautiful. May be, The Created World is imperfect. People say , God created this world in six days. On the seventh day HE felt breathless out of exhaustion and rested.
God was in a hurry. Hurried means buried. While creating the world in a great haste HE buried his own creation. When I was in hush, I thought, I could have created a better world.
The born suffers. It dies. It is born again. It dies again. It is never still. It can never live in hush.
I am an aimless traveler between birth and death..
I have crossed the limit of mortal thought and hope. All shapes are beautiful. There is no ugliness. Nature is beautiful. May be, The Created World is imperfect. People say , God created this world in six days. On the seventh day HE felt breathless out of exhaustion and rested.
God was in a hurry. Hurried means buried. While creating the world in a great haste HE buried his own creation. When I was in hush, I thought, I could have created a better world.
0 comments:
Post a Comment