Who's 'Life'?
--
Wasps : They have formed a nest in the corner of the window. Laid eggs there. As the glass-pane shuts their entrance in the room, they just keep hovering in the cubicle / cabin that is formed in the window. In the scorching sun they move there-in restlessly. Occasionally one or two somehow find a way to the room through some slit and I have to be watchful lest I don't crush them if they land onto my face or body. Sometimes I carefully catch them into a bottle and leave out. just now one has arrived on my arm. Though scared, I'm waiting when it flies away on its own. A minute looks like quite a long one. It rubs its antennas with one-another. I catch a shiver and pray it doesn't sting me. Mercifully it has forgiven me and took its flight in the room. Lazily finding the way to the open door. Who's life is more important? I try to find meaning and purpose of 'my' life, which is but a wandering deceitful thought that keeps me captured in the illusion that I am some-one special 'a person', an individual, I have great ambitions and frustrations, successes and failures, I have to attain salvation, or 'God' or immortality. Yet I think who's life is it anyway?
--
Wasps : They have formed a nest in the corner of the window. Laid eggs there. As the glass-pane shuts their entrance in the room, they just keep hovering in the cubicle / cabin that is formed in the window. In the scorching sun they move there-in restlessly. Occasionally one or two somehow find a way to the room through some slit and I have to be watchful lest I don't crush them if they land onto my face or body. Sometimes I carefully catch them into a bottle and leave out. just now one has arrived on my arm. Though scared, I'm waiting when it flies away on its own. A minute looks like quite a long one. It rubs its antennas with one-another. I catch a shiver and pray it doesn't sting me. Mercifully it has forgiven me and took its flight in the room. Lazily finding the way to the open door. Who's life is more important? I try to find meaning and purpose of 'my' life, which is but a wandering deceitful thought that keeps me captured in the illusion that I am some-one special 'a person', an individual, I have great ambitions and frustrations, successes and failures, I have to attain salvation, or 'God' or immortality. Yet I think who's life is it anyway?
No comments:
Post a Comment