Which one’s your door?

Here’s a story to take you to two doors, you can only choose one and only choose once. Choose wisely. 

In a mother’s womb were two babies.
One asked the other: “Do you believe in life after delivery?”
The other replies, “why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.

“Nonsense,” says the other. “There is no life after delivery. What would that life be?” “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths.”

The other says, “This is absurd! Walking is impossible. And eat with our mouths? Ridiculous. The umbilical cord supplies nutrition. Life after delivery is to be excluded. The umbilical cord is too short.”
“I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here.” the other replies, “No one has ever come back from there. Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery it is nothing but darkness and anxiety and it takes us nowhere.”

“Well, I don’t know,” says the other, “but certainly we will see mother and she will take care of us.”

“Mother??” You believe in mother? Where is she now? “She is all around us. It is in her that we live. Without her there would not be this world.”
“I don’t see her, so it’s only logical that she doesn’t exist.”
To which the other replied, “sometimes when you’re in silence you can hear her, you can perceive her.”I believe there is a reality after delivery and we are here to prepare ourselves for that reality.

via Ben at DOP – The Door Of Perception

This is a great analogy if those who don’t believe in the afterlife are complete fools and know so very little about what really exists outside this reality of ours.
Every breath you take, is proof of creator.
Every flower, animal and tree, is creator born.
You would not be alive without the creator’s breath of life.

And I don’t believe in life after death. Only because I don’t believe in death. I believe life is eternal and the only thing that dies is your physical form. We are only visitors in this realm.

“You do not have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body.” – George MacDonald

It’s all about faith. What you believe in, whether in science or religion, faith is all what matters. Found your door?
Share and help others to find theirs.

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Did you ever smell a memory? Well, I did.

Did you ever smell a memory?

Like when someone passes by
Or a gush of wind hits your face
Like when someone hits the right chord right there
Or an old song that you hear by the radio.

Like when someone brews the morning coffee
Or the sound of the leaves flowing through the gusty wind.
Like when someone opens your inner closet
Or you go through the pages of a really old novel

And the scent it left just reminds you
of something.

People, places and memories.
You can’t even remember now.
Somehow it makes you so happy
Somehow it makes you feel connected
Somehow it ushers a new you in you.
A smile.

Next thing you know,
You’ve been searching your mind palace
Opening doors of past,
Peeping through each of those windows.
Trying to find that specific scent.
Like a whisper among infinite noises!

And sometimes you find that forgotten smell sometimes you don’t.
But you got to live that moment.
Every bit of it, like forever.

That’s called nostalgia friends! A forgotten dream or the first poem you ever loved!

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DID YOU HEAR THOSE FOUR WORDS?

But I’d said it to you every day,
In ways you never knew.

It poured over the umbrella,
That I held for you in the rain,
Baked in the cake I made you,
Did you hear those four words?
While it breathes when you held my hand,
In the crowd we were lost
When you got the biggest slice,
And when you told me you loved it,
How I baked it for you twice.

It laughs through the walls of your house,
Which we painted when your mum had gone,
It peeps through the assignment I replaced with mine,
When you had not done.
Did you hear those four words?
In all the pretty things,
We saw together.
It was standing in the shade beside us,
When we waited for the bus to come.

And it waited in all the ways that I would miss you,
Every time that you were gone.
I might not have said those four words,
But it speaks through the belief I have, in you.
And actions speak much louder,
Than anything one can say.

So if you’re really tired of waiting.
For those four words to leave my throat.
All I can say is that, it’s really cold outside,
So, don’t forget your coat.
Did you hear those four words?

For love is not in the words. It’s in the wait.

I say, that those three words, are said too much, they’re not enough.
Do share if you liked. Share the post to make your person hear those four words.

Have you heard a truth purer than this?

No fancy musings, but wrote a prayer for the soul this time, rantings of this soul-cafe :

Little rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
They vanish, and die utterly.
One would never know that it rained,
If the whirls didn’t whisper their arrival on the face of sea.

Souls dive down and wrinkle life,
Whence they vanish to the infinity.
One might never know that the souls descend,
If the face of life didn’t unveil wrinkles on its face


Remember a soul never ages, it only grows, wiser each day.
For the those who age are the ones who die.
And souls are not meant for it.
After all the dusk knew what the dawn never expected.

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Why do we travel?

Why do you travel?
Yes, I travel.
To follow the echo,
Of millions of souls I pass by.

To find new paths.
The scent of the fresh grass calls me every time.
Then the north wind whispers.
The sunshine pleads to cross roads,
And deviate.

To follow the flock of birds,
Here and there.
Flutter by. Changing directions.
To follow the rainbow hues.
To reach great places. Sometimes cramped holes.
To get drenched. Or blown away.
To get welcomed, hugged. Or swayed away by nasty faces.

To make friends. Loads of friends, believe me.
To make them feel good. Feel good about themselves.
Called the favorite part of my journey.
Festivities and grandeur.
Pray together, laugh together.

Beautiful memories, grand feasts, gaily dances.
Weaving together, the tapestry of life.
Painting together, the kaleidoscope of sky.
Creating harmonious symphonies,
We leave our shadows behind.

And then there are good-byes.
The part we can’t omit.
But we promise to meet again.
Somewhere. Some place under a different shade.

So, to travel to find the self.
To travel to find my soul.
To travel, because we are searching for a place that makes one feel home.
To believe, one day I’ll find a place,
A place which is worth calling home.
That day I’ll stop. No more travel. Promise.

Yes, I travel.
I get lost.
Yet, I travel.

We all do, on this face of earth.
If not as a poet, then as a poem.

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