Life

For life is like a sea and we are the ripples that forms the wave. Forming an identity in the midst of the confusion or static clearness, and when at its peak, its prime youth, in its dance of life it finds its identity, in the moment's expressive individuality of form it thinks it finds itself but then it is inevitable what would happen, cause the truth is that we are all one. The identity is itself inconclusive, inconsequential.

And it is not that I speak from from not knowing that this is something that happens in just one phenomena. The desert with the dunes that fade and appear with time, one's identity is then just a fraction of what comes to be in the lifetime of the one. And same it is for a tree that rises from the earth to reach the stars and secretly digs deep, later just comes back and there is no distinguishing between earth and the living indentity. Even the most hideous of blackheads or whiteheads, that grows out of the skin for a moment they seem to be permanent, with the expression of vibrant colours that it proclaims to be its beauty also in the end dies and becomes one with the skin, sometimes almost as if it weren't there.

And I speak not cause I see these as patterns of life, but because it is governed by all the forces that we haven't a clue off, cause I think there is a master plan. And I may be mad to say this but in the end, it is what comes to be as Love. When here again we think of the word, we think of it as a mere fraction of the definite definition that we have given it now, but we we look closely, I know it as something that was in its concept and understanding something would not be able to comprehend its simplistic beauty that it is what weaves into life and life into it.

To speak of it, I would say that love would be of the rocks that lay under the soil that support the rocks that makes the road strong, the road in return in love with the tyres that aggressive rubs itself on it, the metals that rides on the jumpy rough rubber and the leather to its holds on strongly to it unlikely partner, and the rider to whom the smooth brushing of the wind on his face makes him feel that he is in heaven. And behold this is it.

For I think God in this ageless wisdom, might have made all things, but never let them to definitions that we have created on it. For he made everything in such simpleness that human complexity would never understand.

Cause I am sure that when I meet my maker, I think he will give me an answer so simple that I would never be able to comprehend it fully.