My Grandfather.

I am kinda praying
That he gets what he wants now
I dont want him to go through anymore
Of all this drama.
He deserves the peace now.
He deserves what he wants, and has wanted for so long.
He will then get to meet his wife again
If fables are true
And he will have peace and mukhti
And I know he has wanted it for sooo long now.
I saw his failed attempt at fleeing away before time
Two years back.
But that was basically a good bye to the papaji we knew.
Now we are only saying bye to what remains
It is final now
I know its time
He wont even fight it anymore
I just hope he gets what he wants
Nothing more
And that he is Free Forever.

Blue Mornings.

Blissful. Mountains. Clouds. Birds. Mornings. Unslept nights.

Those beautiful untold stories hidden in the linings of the cloud and then those birds remind me not to pay attention to details but to freedom. Mukhti.
But being a slave is an addiction too. To accept instead of creating, too is a habit.

Do we really want freedom?

Romanticism

'... the feeling infinite, so felt
In solitude where we are least alone;
A truth which through our being then doth melt
And purifies from self.'

- Byron

'Death is the veil which those who live call life:
They sleep and it is lifted.'
- Shelley