I want to say something, and my head happens to be working.I am not a writer, and don't aspire to be one.
I don't want to be a screw in the machinery of the society.
Strangely, I don't like the idea of being an expert.It means you're adept at the mechanics of something, isn't it? And then you'd be sitting on a chair someday with your face gone old and straight like a tree, grumbling, but you're an expert, and you think that's all.
The world is full of too many rules.Practice...all of the life out there is based on mere practice.My heart sort of jerks at then prospect of a mechanical life, even if it means being good at something.
There's also the question of living life, standing up to yourself, looking straight...But then again, looking straight is too staid, too ugly..
Perhaps there's nothing to reach
Life tells it stories and fights to teach
Moments come and go
Reaching high and low
...
As if awoken from a deep sleep;
I feel a deep liking for you
I sit and gaze at stars so blue;
...
Life can never say what death said,
I was far more wise on my death bed
Getting wiser till my last breath
And wiser still after death
...
The world is a chapel
The sky is the God
I am the heart
And its tears the only rain-drops, the only rain..
...
I am the centre of everything
I am the whole
Everything should start with me,
Start with the soul
...