The dance of the brown leaves was a sight to remember. They were brown,they were the fallen, nobody cared for them, yet they pranced about under the currant of the summer winds. They were dead, driven away from life, yet they had hope. Hope that will carry them to a new place and help them start afresh, build some young bird’s life or maybe make new friends. Two brown leaves stitched together to form a dish for a passerbye’s ‘paanipuri’ or the thatched roof for an old man in some countryside. They would not forget those days in paradise when the parakeets or bulbils sang through their air, they would never forget those whispers in their veins to distribute food among the fruits. But now they were fallen, they were broken, they were despised because of their passivity, yet they had HOPE.
Never lose out on the moments, go through the moments because these moments make you realize that you are alive. Pain makes you realize that this is real and not a dream. A lot of bad things will happen to good people and good things will happen to bad people. But who are you to judge whether people are good or bad? Some great person once said that life is a building process and not the destination, so one must encounter such ‘moments‘, there is no escape and there is no pause button, there is no one to tell you how to cope. You must find your way, a way only typical of you and nobody’s teaching.
Come, come, fly into my palm
And collapse
Oh oh, suppose you’ll never know
Nobody knows where they might end up
Nobody knows
Nobody knows where they might wake up
Nobody knows