Hey Readers,
This is fiction.
Along the large and unexplored barren wastelands, the red grounds of the jungle like area, smelt like charcoal burning in a distance. We were standing in the middle of nowhere. The waters were flowing from all possible ways - but from - where most expected. The sun was 'bout leaving its edges, and - the smell of the wasted and half-rotten animals was spreading fast.
In all this mystic dance of destiny, and our lost ways - I heard the crying mountain.
The most beautiful, amidst - the many more dark ones, the ones with the temples all over it, and the ones - where only Silver Oak was growing - this was a Lonely, Thin and - ever Singing - mountain - so lovely - I could hear it hum, I could hear it sing.
Some say - they hate the busy city lives, but others are dying to be in the city. What the truth of life is and why we do things the way they are done - are very - confusing. Man was born to love, and man should die - to safeguard what he loves. These are the two - Verses ....rest all - imagination of the bored out mind.
But, this story of the mountain is true. And, all the streams that - were flowing besides it, were - making - Unnecessary sounds - The sounds of - distress, the sounds of weakness, and the sounds of apathy.
If we are living a life meant by God for us, why should others worry about it ? If we are sitting in the company of evil , why should others - Hate Us ? If we are not ready to listen to anything but our own - self created conscience - then - Why are we listening to others at all ? - These are the questions - My mountain asked me, and I said - Others worry about you - because - You are the prettiest of all of them, and they think you go to some other range - their range may become the range of Darkness. If you doing things wrong - They worry they might lose you to your own - prevaricating mind. And eventually the last one -
If you stop listening to all others - and start listening to only your own self - then - All nature and all its symphonies - shall look and sound merrily like - the hum drums of an ordinary Village Orchestra , and you would be - Like an archipelago in the dark and turbulent Sea.
My mountain smiled back to me, and said. I am able to understand you now...........
Happy Reading ............. wud write more soon ...........
This is fiction.
Along the large and unexplored barren wastelands, the red grounds of the jungle like area, smelt like charcoal burning in a distance. We were standing in the middle of nowhere. The waters were flowing from all possible ways - but from - where most expected. The sun was 'bout leaving its edges, and - the smell of the wasted and half-rotten animals was spreading fast.
In all this mystic dance of destiny, and our lost ways - I heard the crying mountain.
The most beautiful, amidst - the many more dark ones, the ones with the temples all over it, and the ones - where only Silver Oak was growing - this was a Lonely, Thin and - ever Singing - mountain - so lovely - I could hear it hum, I could hear it sing.
Some say - they hate the busy city lives, but others are dying to be in the city. What the truth of life is and why we do things the way they are done - are very - confusing. Man was born to love, and man should die - to safeguard what he loves. These are the two - Verses ....rest all - imagination of the bored out mind.
But, this story of the mountain is true. And, all the streams that - were flowing besides it, were - making - Unnecessary sounds - The sounds of - distress, the sounds of weakness, and the sounds of apathy.
If we are living a life meant by God for us, why should others worry about it ? If we are sitting in the company of evil , why should others - Hate Us ? If we are not ready to listen to anything but our own - self created conscience - then - Why are we listening to others at all ? - These are the questions - My mountain asked me, and I said - Others worry about you - because - You are the prettiest of all of them, and they think you go to some other range - their range may become the range of Darkness. If you doing things wrong - They worry they might lose you to your own - prevaricating mind. And eventually the last one -
If you stop listening to all others - and start listening to only your own self - then - All nature and all its symphonies - shall look and sound merrily like - the hum drums of an ordinary Village Orchestra , and you would be - Like an archipelago in the dark and turbulent Sea.
My mountain smiled back to me, and said. I am able to understand you now...........
Happy Reading ............. wud write more soon ...........
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