Out of the Mist

Since we reach the age of understanding things, we think that feelings and concepts (undefined to us yet) that exist for reasons whatsoever, they should complete their purpose – perfection – which is impossible for a human to do. We are full of mistakes, we are uncertain, others expect a lot from us, and we can’t be everywhere. That is us trying not to disappoint them, and in doing so, we lose control of time – the unit of life. Love, Time, Death – the most important phenomenon in life. We feel for others, and we  love them in our unique ways. Soon the Time passes very quickly, and then you think of death – leaving everything behind. Just some moments before the death, you think of all the things you have done and for what?  So, right at this moment, when you are alive, living the life you only think of doing the right things, the right decisions that will lead you to not regret in that last moment of your life.  Focusing on what is that we have right now?  A

The world is a pit! Consider me a cynic, bitter and hostile if you want but the truth is, we all are just fuel of the world. I come, I live, I go. I don't get to choose my origin, I am where I am supposed to be. I live by the rules of my origination. I am the self, I am imagination. I am all, I am none. I once thought I am not just a fickle flame that can be put out by a gust of wind. The origins don't matter, what matters is the act of a man. An act is what defines me. But you may disagree. Well disagree all you want but the whole point of life is based on disagreement. You and me! We can't be a mirror image. You may not like my origin, you may hate my environment, you may disagree with my whatever comes out of my mouth, and you definitely can disaccord with my perspective on life, still, it is my life. Credits; The Work of Marti Belcher I met this aged, ragged and all wrinkly like a crumpled piece of paper. The poor old man was coughing the ceiling off. Rainin

Life is one tough teacher that brings you every lesson, it wants you to learn. In this process and just keep shifting, and later all you had left is an imprint. Now reliving those moments across the sand of times, it can be great or a living hell. Right now I can’t pick up the end of my feeling; everything around me is just blurry, motions are abrupt and jerky, fear in the air is so thick and death; it's collecting the souls around me. I felt like I might throw up, for the van I was traveling in rocked, so did the ground. I closed my eyes and try to avoid looking outside. The tremors had moved the plates under the surface, shaken the mountains, caused sliding of heavy rocks at a few corners of the Chattar Plane road, leading to District Battagram. The road was damaged but still, it was good for us to keep going. We may have had a chance to reach there. I opened my eyes and risked a glance outside. The village across the river that I grew up watching every year I passed this

Creation is an art. Looking around oneself, observing the past, predicting the future through the mists of creation, wandering around the edges of life and death, articulation gives you a feeling that you have something special inside you. You have an idea, which can either disintegrate or integrate you with the soul of the world. Speaking of which, anyone who can bond with his soul can bond with the soul of the world.  Lord of the Heaven created immortal and gave him this special sense of understanding. With that understanding, he learns about himself, he gets himself acquainted with whatever he wants to.  We learn, engage, excel. Out of the mist of art, emerges our true self. The creator has done his job, and "Oh Lord! How beautifully He has done it.". Its now your turn, your choice and only you have to decide what you want and how you want it. Let us create our own paradise. It's never too late. You might have heard of the fragrance that remains in the hands of t