The surface of the sand was smooth and undulating- very much unlike life- which was undulating too but not smooth always. I lay on it and closed my eyes. My head ached due to the vision that surfaced beneath my closed eyes. It was ambiguous and unstable, incomprehensible. There was darkness. I lay still and calm.
The sand on which I lay was tread upon by a thousand feet everyday. But it remained unchanged. It lay true to its nature and allowed itself to be subject to the feel of a million that tread upon it everyday. It did not think about whom it would encounter tomorrow or what would happen to in the next few moments. It just lay there, waiting for the next moment to draw upon it. It allowed itself to be washed upon by the experience of those who came its way. And it gave what it had to them- a surface to stay upon, and at times, inspiration of its being.
I opened by eyes. I took the grains of sand in my hands and allowed them to escape from my fingers. It gave a feel of itself and then passed away. I looked ahead- and walked on- like the grains of sand- that gave a feel of them and passed by.
The sand on which I lay was tread upon by a thousand feet everyday. But it remained unchanged. It lay true to its nature and allowed itself to be subject to the feel of a million that tread upon it everyday. It did not think about whom it would encounter tomorrow or what would happen to in the next few moments. It just lay there, waiting for the next moment to draw upon it. It allowed itself to be washed upon by the experience of those who came its way. And it gave what it had to them- a surface to stay upon, and at times, inspiration of its being.
I opened by eyes. I took the grains of sand in my hands and allowed them to escape from my fingers. It gave a feel of itself and then passed away. I looked ahead- and walked on- like the grains of sand- that gave a feel of them and passed by.
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