Oh to be alive

Alone amidst the shadows he sat, waiting for darkness to engulf him, pause he did for a while, as nocturnal was his style. Bated breath, taut muscles, watching intent, pounce he would when the time was apt, till then no scope to be lax. Every day was a fight, ever night a rare act, he was known by the way he caught his prey, platitudes were not his to say.  Alongside those very shadows, taking in the sway, oblivious to the darn darkness, stealthily keeping at bay, was another presence, negating all that was thrown astray. Every night was a tough fight, before its dawn, who would call the shots; who would have a say? In the deepest recesses of one’s heart, soul and mind, lies the ability to choose, give in or just be blind.

Nothing like a walk in the woods, nothing like nothingness to to be understood; Nothing like solitude, nothing like a friend who sees you through or meanders along in these very woods. Rambling, reflecting, reinforcing, redefining, refurbishing, returning to a ramble in the woods.....

Islands of peace, islands of reflection; in a cacophonous world of make believe, there is always space for reprieve...looking hard, looking really deep, there's a hidden magic everywhere; sometimes it just doesn't meet the eye...open your heart and feel it within, the mystical music, the lilting breeze, it says it all, it says it all the time...just need to tarry a while...

Intricate, articulate...adorned, embellished...aiming toward perfection, or a need to achieve, something spurs one on, looking for the unique ...what is it that urges man to push the envelope, what is that says go on in spite of everything...engraved in stone, etched in one's psyche, the music emerges in different hues from palettes divine...manifesting in a silhouette or a dream...drawing from, 'I am therefore I think...or I think therefore I am'....

Placid waters, calm and deep, reflecting a certain need; Evening shadows disappear; fishermen walk home with the yield, anchored boat, adrift breeze, brings along much needed peace.

Silhouettes come alive in the waning light,  life takes a turn as the sun goes down. Subdued hues, conspicuous presence, from aglow and dapper to somewhat run down.

Nature is something one can perpetually learn from, as it goes about its business in a quiet, calm almost invisible way. But there is magic everywhere for the discerning eye -- as the fruit ripens and the seeds fall, as the leaves wilt and as the shoots grow, as some seeds find fertile ground and others vanish in spite of wings. A ripple in the water triggers a thousand changes, all taken in stride, nature bemoans not its loss, but looks for ways to adapt, sustain and move on...

The winter sky was azure and cold, there were, beneath the snow tales hidden; sagas untold. Each year had gone by the same, layering the otherwise ordinary terrain. They tried to break free, breathe easy in the summer heat, but scorched and scalded then, they waited for another spell of rain or sleet. Autumn wiped away their tears, sheathing them in colours galore. Again they tried to rear their heads, pried hard to unfold from their homesteads. The winter came as if unannounced, freezing them and everything else around. They were then petrified in layers, images of themselves were stratified, blurred. Underneath the snow there lay close to each other, legends left to be discovered, epics waiting for the melting of snow…