Change is inevitable they say. The only constant. And yet, the mind wonders whether people ever change? Some schools of thought say that once a person’s personality has been defined (in the formative years), events may alter short term behaviour but long term behaviour and attitude can not change.
This comes as a blow to most people who wish one aspect or another of someone they love changes. It could be anything – a habit, the way a person reacts, extent of expressiveness or even as simple as tidiness. But if you really think about people you know, you may realise that at the core of it, in the long term, the intrinsic person remains the same. Does this mean we should not believe in giving second and third chances? Does it mean it is easier to accept something rather than hope that the future will be different?
I have mixed feelings on this. I know in my heart that people don’t truly change. They learn to curb their behaviour or pretend otherwise. On the other hand, in my not-so-long lifetime, I have met a few people who changed completely. Some overnight, some over a period of time. Such that they often become the complete antithesis of who they were. Is this a phase, one wonders? Or is it the reality?
She writes from the heart, says what she feels, and lives to explore. Alone in a crowd and often misunderstood, she's a nomad who finds home wherever she roams and immeasurable joy in the colours of the sunset sky. You'll find her dining alone with a book, on a table for one. This is her story.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Adios for now
Dear readers - or well those of you who patiently waited me through my blog's silence these past few months! As you may have noticed, the frequency of the posts has been erratic and not very promising. So I figured it is probably best to take a short sabbatical and come back with renewed thoughts. Check back with me in a few weeks....I'll be back!!!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Unspoken love
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
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