The Circle

By -
The center and the circumference
 held onto the radius of breath
And traveled the locus of life
To keep alive the circle of Being

When comets of tangents
Moved past
The circle's awareness
Grew fast

There was an entire
World unexplored beyond
The circumference left the center
To explore

Unaware that it lost the radius
It kept exploring randomly
But now missed it's family
Looking for a center to connect

The circumference cursed
The moment of its eject
Until it found it's center again
And it's lost circle regain!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Dream of Life: A Conversation with Mrs. S. Saraswathy

By -
Image
Our lives are pulled by the string of our dreams like a kite. This thin string may sometimes become invisible with only the kite floating above and being visible. But the string is there as long as it floats above the skies, with the winds of breath. Mrs S. Saraswathy a retired government school teacher,from Chennai, India, now living in Singapore since 10 years, 72 years of age,  obliged me with this insightful interview where we shared views on one's dreams in life. She started with telling about herself: Her father was in the teaching profession and had inspired her and all her 7 sisters into teaching. She started working as a teacher at the young age of 19 years. She taught English and Mathematics. Since it was her dream to be a teacher, she thoroughly enjoyed every bit of her teaching life. She said, " More than teaching it is important to love your students. If there is mutual love between students and teacher, learning becomes so much easier as the student is in
Read more

THORNS OF LOVE

By -
High atop a windswept cliff, far from the cozy communal nests of other birds in the valley below, resided Aethel the mountain hawk-eagle. Aethel was a large, bulky eagle of forested hills. Her small head rested above immensely broad wings, and a large, fanned-out tail. A thin upright crest crowned her regal form. Solitary and focused, she fiercely guarded her nest; overlooking flocks of pigeons below. They huddled together in their soft, feathery nests, with their young ones squawking for scraps scavenged from the town square. Unlike them, her eaglets, Soar and Rye, had a different upbringing. She believed in pushing them beyond their comfort zones. Their nest, woven from coarse branches, lacked the softness of feathers or straw that other birds would usually line their nests with, offering a comfortable abode to their young ones. As weeks rolled by, Aethel deliberately introduced prickly thorns in the bed of the nest. This added to the discomfort of the eaglets and they flapped th
Read more

The Point

By -
Amy worked as a Mathematics teacher in the local school for over thirty years. Her sixtieth birthday also marked her last day at school, as a teacher. That day she remembered her last day at school as a student, how happy she was back then! How the feelings of leaving school had changed in all those years. Time had transformed her from the immature pupil to a matured teacher, who felt a mixture of emotions. A contentment of having lived through years of imparting education, of being a useful member of society, a subtle sadness of having to depart from all who were so dear and part of her daily life all these years and a small measure of some apprehensive joy for the prospective freedom from daily duties. Though she was relieved at the prospect of being free from the daily routine of teaching, she was concerned about maintaining a balanced life without the rigid framework of a disciplined routine. “Routine as though provides a skeletal framework on which we hang the clothes of momen
Read more