Rain drop keeps falling on my head. It falls everyday telling me to write something or whatever I can write about. Well, I have decided to see the world in a more old-fashioned way and touch on our common, humble, unique, and heroic sensitivities that define the sorrow and happiness of our existence.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
correcting the blues...
Early morning has its own blues. Everybody has some kind of blues in them. A fake or genuine is yet to be determined. The blues could be a strong attachment or just a passing ship in a dark night. But it comes as a package. It is a home in itself. Shaking it off would spark another blue or blues. It is a language. Deep down it is just nothing but could be another language of a different kind. But unfortunately almost all react by the first or second, or third language of their own blues. Allah is Great speaks the `language' of all, the First and the None.
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