Like tears in rain.

[f4f3]

I stopped off at my Dad's this morning to pick up my car, which had been resting over the weekend. The bonnet was absolutely covered with a blanket of cherry blossom, and I drove off trailing the blossom in a plume which rose over the windshield in front of me, like nature's tears, swirling for a moment, then gone to the wind, mixed with a fine drizzle that started falling as I drove.

Hey ho.

Comments

[rparvaaz.livejournal.com]

Ah, ok. I often react that way. And then I find myself reciting one of my favourite poems by Iqbal. It is a conversation between Beauty and God, with the former asking why it has not been rendered immortal. And God says that the world is a story of change, a picture painted in the colours of mortality, and only that which is ephemeral can be truly beautiful...Somehow the poem helps.

Hugs to you, m'dear.