Little Heart,
is very big in art
of understanding, living and in believing!.
Little Heart,
as the name says,
is the finest of all the art,
a perfectionist in views & delicate in use!.
Little heart,
is a modern art,
fellows to admire and
guys to jealous.
Little (he)art,
you are very smart,
things to appreciate and
ways to de(a)part
(C) Reserved - Jeev'sworld
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Deathbed
Its very true, "When I cried (born), world rejoiced, when I rejoiced (dead), world cried!".
Looking back into the past life, I am sleeping on the deathbed, I know, how difficult it was to grow till this level, I know how much my parents struggled to get me here, I know how much pain they underwent - when I done bad things, I know how much they enjoyed - when I done extremely well...
But sleeping on this deathbed, looking at the crying people, I feel, my parents knowingly put me into this world, knowingly they created me, knowingly they brought me up, knowingly they made me man, knowingly they ask me to marry, knowingly they became Granny n Grandpa, knowingly now I am here, but they aren't.
Sleeping on this deathbed, looking into this huge penthouse, I feel, what I've achieved is not a small thing, but what am I carrying with me?, not a penny, even not a piece of cloth, but I can feel the cry around me, the odor of the incense, the smell of the flowers around me, what not?
How can they live without me? that's the stupid question I am asking my self from past 10 years, still I would like to ask, but days turns into routine, routine turns into habit, habit turns the pain into happy moments, then, there's just a question, "If he would have been there?"...
At last all is well that ends well, but when you take this example of the life, it doesn't goes with the meaning, what really it matters is, what started with well, ends in a well!
Looking back into the past life, I am sleeping on the deathbed, I know, how difficult it was to grow till this level, I know how much my parents struggled to get me here, I know how much pain they underwent - when I done bad things, I know how much they enjoyed - when I done extremely well...
But sleeping on this deathbed, looking at the crying people, I feel, my parents knowingly put me into this world, knowingly they created me, knowingly they brought me up, knowingly they made me man, knowingly they ask me to marry, knowingly they became Granny n Grandpa, knowingly now I am here, but they aren't.
Sleeping on this deathbed, looking into this huge penthouse, I feel, what I've achieved is not a small thing, but what am I carrying with me?, not a penny, even not a piece of cloth, but I can feel the cry around me, the odor of the incense, the smell of the flowers around me, what not?
How can they live without me? that's the stupid question I am asking my self from past 10 years, still I would like to ask, but days turns into routine, routine turns into habit, habit turns the pain into happy moments, then, there's just a question, "If he would have been there?"...
At last all is well that ends well, but when you take this example of the life, it doesn't goes with the meaning, what really it matters is, what started with well, ends in a well!
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