Excerpts from Fireflies : Tagore

My fancies are fireflies, —
Specks of living light
twinkling in the dark.

Your careless gifts of a moment,
like the meteors of an autumn night,
catch fire in the depth of my being.

The faith waiting in the heart of a seed
promises a miracle of life
which it cannot prove at once.

These paper boats of mine are meant to dance
on the ripples of hours,
and not to reach any destination.

You leave your memory as a flame
to my lonely lamp of separation.

Your flitting love lightly brushed with its wings
my sun-flower
and never asked if it was ready to surrender its honey.

Between the shores of Me and Thee
there is the loud ocean, my own surging self,
which I long to cross.

Before the end of my journey
may I reach within myself
the one which is the all,
leaving the outer shell
to float away with the drifting multitude
upon the current of chance and change.

The Window dressing

Swinging my feet off the bed, I welcomed the biting chill of granite against my toes. I was wrong...I had managed to sleep.Rising in the morning for office wasn't as gruelling a task as every other day. I opened my eyes and I was up. I looked into the mirror. The reflection I fell in love with everyday was that of a strangers today. I stared at it for longer than I could afford to.My overflowing wardrobe that always seemed it could take in more looked just fine today. Today,I would not have the abandoned clothes strewn on my cot till evening waiting to be shelved back into my wardrobe. Today, I would not have to try on ten different suits to decide my pick for the day. I knew what I wanted to wear and I pulled it out. I heard my mobile ring to warn me that my pick up cab was approaching. Any other day, this would have been the time when the dogs and drivers in my neighbourhood witnessed me racing down the street.But today I had chosen to blow dry my hair. I had risked being hated..being misunderstood. I knew I had to take up either violin classes or guitar or art. The stove was turned off so was the geyser.The milk jar was covered. The night lamp was off. Today, I had forgotten nothing. I was ready to start the day. I was ready to glue on the smile. I was ready to play my part and to do my role. I checked myself in the mirror.She looked back at me.

It was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down.
-Emily Dickinson