Sometimes, it’s enough
to merely exist,
to sink into the silence,
to wear the weight of nothingness
like a second skin.
To drift through days
as a shadow among shadows,
unseen,
unchanged.
About the Creator
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mahatma and the washer man
Mahatma and the washerman!!! A Mahatma was sitting on a big stone on the bank of the river. A washerman comes there and there was a single pond on the shore where he used to wash clothes every day. When he saw Mahatmaji sitting on the rock, he thought - He will get up now, I will wait for some time. Wait and then do my work. One hour passed, two hours passed and Mahatma still did not wake up.
By Melakiya Yogeshbhaiabout a year ago in Chapters
The Sky
I always know the beginning of the ascent by the spark behind my eyes. It’s the smallest shift, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but unmistakable to me. A flicker. A sharpening. A quiet ignition in the center of my skull, as if someone has cracked open a window in my mind and let in a gust of bright, electric air.
By Elisa Wontorcik7 days ago in Chapters
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