Walking through the alleys of history, many incidents arise, some wrench your heart to scream while some make you swell with pride. Our eye, gateway to our domicile and words touch the core to deep insides. Passion glimpses in our tradition, but sometimes grows to tie, un-openable knots of offense that cannot be reconciled.
How often do we see our anger hold the swords of ink, but sometimes we choose the wrong cause or mingle through those veiled polities, forgetting where we grounded the ashes of truth in the very same soil it rendered through.
The world changes, we move with time, throwing back ideas that don’t rhyme with the new hymn. Each day will see a new dawn but should we still live with the old norms. Don’t succumb to these shambles of unpolished thoughts. They just have the essence of relative droughts.