What is this notion of bliss, this most venerable of a concept? What is it about it that is so unattainable, so desirable, and so fulfilling all at once?
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Wouldn’t it be wonderful, if everything worked out? Irrespective of the grandiose nature, and concepts that surround life and ontology;
There was a time when as the stars passed by in the night outside my window, I would stare out
When the seed in your hand has come from an apple; it does not matter how much you wish for
If you think you are irreparably hurt; remember that at some point, you have lied to your mother. You have
“What day is it?” asked Winnie the Pooh
“It’s today.” squeaked Piglet.
“My favourite day.” said Pooh.
Suppose that in ten million years, humanity has been long wiped off the face of the planet. Some life still remains, but it has regressed to a more primitive state, due to some cataclysmic event, caused by our own iniquity, or some element of chance.
No animal that could understand the basics of calculus has existed on the rock called Earth for a very long time.
When one day, entirely by chance, our no longer blue planet is discovered, by some nomadic civilisation …
Broken heart; and tired mind.
Useless body, set out to find,
A solemn place to belong,
Where you can dance, and write your song.
Where worries past, will not follow,
Torture you, obsess and swallow.
Where what you grow into; matters more,
Than what you were, from long before. …