they say..

They say, it pains..
I say, it rains..

It showers over me,
Delicately cherishing,
It’s a flower of love,
My heart is flourishing..

They say, it pricks,
With all it’s thorns,
I say, it carves,
Me in beautiful forms..

They say, it’s dreadful,
It leaves behind you,
With some painful..
I say, it touches,
It cuddles, it tingles,
Making river flow..
Inside you.. and..
Keeps it beautiful…


does one + one always make two?? can't one + one make a 'bigger' one..
A profound one, which can run over passion, which can give clout to itself to live,to fight,to leap, which can live happily exploring the world..outward and inward both ways...
one, which laughs, cries, shouts, hurts, senses, smells, touches, flourishes along.. and cherishes being "one"...
one, which has dreams also interlocked, which gives shoulder to those dreams, works, faces toils for those dreams, and sees them coming true also being one..
one, which can see the horizon, sees the stars, feels the beauty and collects it within.. pours is on itself..
one, which walks along the sea-shore in midnight,without words,against the breezes...
one, which can count on itself, for everything...for everything...

harshada vinaya..