Just for the sheer joy

and love of writing

to someone,

without having to say

anything in particular.

 

May be just celebrating Sunday,

for the sake of the little times

shared on past many Sundays.

 

Walking together

to the market and back –

talking, buying stuffs,

sharing a dosa or a samosa

or some sugar free fudge.

 

Now is beautiful

in all its abundance,

with opportunities galore,

to meet both – 

Myself and life.

 

To ponder over the direction

 we are heading into

together hand in hand,

influencing each other.

Myself and life.

 

Other souls, their lives

crossing our path.

Sharing time, space, emotions,

dreams, hopes, hurts, healings.

 

May be, souls crossing paths,

is all about sharing, 

bringing something to each other.

Enroute self – discovery.

 

Showing mirror,

unlocking hidden doors within,

unknotting, unblocking, healing.

Or may be otherwise.

 

Whatever is meant to be

with whoever one meets,

in that point in time.

 

And what is about time? 

Unpredictable, unrevealing

of even the next moment.

Who knows this very moment

is the last before we part.

Forever. 

 

If it occurs to you ever,

that we can share sometimes,

a meal or a walk or a story

or a little climb or a song.

 

Or some experience

about life, love, travel,

inspirations, kindness, healing,

Divinity, practice, laughter,

wonders, magic, gratitude.

 

 Or just anything at all.

Or just sitting in silence together.

In sweet presence,

in mindful companionship.

 

To all, which we never know,

may be waiting to be shared.

within the time when

our paths have crossed,

to them, I keep the door open.

 

And if nothing is there,

meant to be shared.

That too is welcomed,

Alike.

 

Empty words and fuller silence.

Walking together,

hand in hand.

Myself and life.

 

The joy of ‘being’ your true self, beyond the shackles of conditionings, judgements, fear, inhibitions, pretense,  hesitations, calculations or anything at all (that comes with the worldliness) is unparalleled. What a fulfilling life it could be, I wonder, where it is from one moment of being to another, nothing less.

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