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A Particle Nevertheless

(Velu tagged me...and I hate doing tags, but I love my buddies, so here goes.)

Somehow, everyone will have a definition of mothers, amma, the greatest beings, the gentle soul who was born solely to protect us and understand us. A particle journeys from the center of the universe, from the progenial palace where all life emerges, from where God exists in mercurial times, floating in a miasma of naked truths and innocent lies that build this staggering universe to exist as a showpiece, an observation piece for creatures hiding in every corner. What is this concept of amma, or mother or any caregiver that actually builds us to what we are today? They are the creators, but they are also burdened. The never ending cycle of dissapointments, never being able to understand this cruel life, where money matters more than love, and love itself lost during the childhood. Didn't they all crave that the children be a child forever, in a typical season of love and joy that when the wake up tomorrow they'll be facing the same child and show the same love. Mother, what does this word strike deep in the hearts of posers like me who doesn't know the day tomorrow but love to speculate what another person thinks. I don't believe in never ending love, but I know what sacrifice is, but mother's don't know both. They are born as the God themselves to guide us, show us they can cry like everyone else, like how we can sing and dance in drunken exhilaration of any joy, but they know deep inside they own it all. Amma, for what she does, or what she cooks, the nutrition of life, how we forge ahead to find everything in this world is just lies upon lies build on a bed of frequent disappointments, and finally we agreed that the world is wrong but when we return she is not there.

A particle, being me, and us, we traveled so far, we think we know it, but we never know what's inside this female, what do they think this second of us or the next son or the next daughter. We are tiny sparks of light and life, but we know where to stop don't we. But she doesn't know light nor any energy greater than the satisfaction of being a mother. But was it all lost is vain seeing that she cant understand what this creation of hers is doing day in and day out, struggling in the rain to be the next successfully person he sees. In return, he never taking the time to understand the deepest connection existing between him and her, but he speculates of a trade century where love is sold and bought is a pain that would never go. But she understands that he cant be the successful person, because he struggles, and he knew she understood in some ways that he is week, but does she have the will and the power to idlest guide him now that he is big. So that's why they dream of horror but wake up to see that he steps into the house the next day all smiling because he came back to the proverbial home. And she smiles too.

So you ask, how long life will take this concept of love, this so artificial offering where we cant show what we really mean, but then its not life's fault of leaving you in this predicament. So now you must come to understand that its not everyone who loves the mother, like a warm summer day, like rain in the sun, like fog than envelopes the hills at nights where mothers, daughters and sons laughs to yesteryear wisdom, not disguising their feelings because they are free. But they are not the ultimate end to this tale, because they are just a few of the particles which set free of any bonding to the material junk that we thread everyday. I stopped to think what she lost, what she never saw or experience. There were days she wanted to see the world, but I am incapable of showing her, because I failed her in her wills. For all her sacrifice I did not see any ending, or any beginning in that matter because I was born much later than the day she started seeing the essence behind her, behind life, behind everything. I don't know if I would ever be able to understand her sacrifice, I would cry if you want me too, but that day I want to be far away, my life is taking me in directions I don't know, and she cant be there to help me anymore that the giant steps she took to bring me up. The ideals of life is that we are separated at birth because not everyone can be together forever. The ideals of life nevertheless can be changed, but can we?

Like yesterday a thought came, like the day before a thought came and it continued, so the next relationship will create another mother to mimic the life of amma, but how do we be sure? Is the time right for the changes to reflect something new in all sense, or can we still blind time to the changes that we don't want to happen? And yesterday she told me I will be like your mother, but that made me stay awake all night thinking of the sacrifices of my mother, to make a conclusion she can never be that simply because she was not there when the mothers were born long ago in the nebula's where only age and time played music rather than metallic objects. You don't see a dream in the eyes of the ones you love now, the new ones, because the original dream existed in the eyes of the creator your mother. Well these sepia dreams, called so because they are lovely to imagine holds the truth that the pain of separation is bigger that the pain of discovery. So you would never really understand her, but be sure that you will miss her. So it brought me back to a few years back, when I fought and never understood why she must say know. But she was thinking of me all along, only about me and my future. But I was thinking of everyone else. So we fought, and I cried, while she never did. I never knew or would never know what strength she saw in me, but that day she never cried. But she probably did when I left.

Like today, and the days to come, this far flung mind will not stop to look back. But she does it for you because she thinks you will come back. Not everyone, not even when they die, they don't come back because the nature of the human heart, when it was created was devoid of morality of feelings. There was no unending love, it was meant for us to learn and to teach, like mothers who are great teachers. There were Sundays when you would sit with her and she would talk about everything that doesn't make sense the first time, and you wake up the next day smiling thinking she just told of he jealousy of the others in her life of her. She slaved for you not looking at them because you were the only one, but then there were others who made something bigger than you of this world, who maybe went the next step, and she came back to you to encourage. And yet still, for all eternity, you cant say it to her, you can utter that few words that shows you and still her child, her creation, for this dark hole inside your heart that bars you emotions. Life slowly seeping away for her, in her misty eyes, she sees her children dancing with their new loves, and she doesn't utter a word of sin, because she knew that her original calling was to let you go. That much you never knew, to the day, in evening when they carried her away you will stand there having lost everything, and now you will cry for the days you wish you lived back.

Love knows no end.

Comments

V N said…
GP

it doesnt make any sense, since I had tagged u in the first place, and had poked u into this amazingly honest rendering of emotions deep within, but i hv to thank u, for offering me a wonderful read, late this night, and for painting yet another fantastic picture with ur words!

~Love knows no end~ I cudnt agree with u more, pal! :)

NB: Arent I glad I tagged u! ;)
Don Iannone said…
Wow! So much here to chew on. Some wonderful insights. The mind is a mirror that creates itself and the images reflected.
Keshi said…
u have a very deep n rich mind Ghosty...

**Like today, and the days to come, this far flung mind will not stop to look back.

thats so true..the mind does not stop at all.

Keshi.
Jeevan said…
Beautifuly writen. For me mother is my world, what ever stress i give her, never show it out, just smile to feel me their is no stress of me. our first love is mother.
Ghost Particle said…
[velu] im glad u tagged me too...it was nice to write this thing that i had in mind for so long...thank you!

[don]well said...its a cycle of refining that produces the best of what we have. Thank you!

[keshi] thanx!!! true, we must always look foward, and the mind in someways are helping us realize that.

[jeevan] thanx bro...yes, you are absolutely right. there is God with us all the time and thats our mother.
Hey...Amma sure is just one awesome person...Dad is too! I wrote this a while ago

http://dhwanii.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_dhwanii_archive.html...If u have time do read it....


Moms love never knows to subside with time, age or any other thing possibly created!
Cinderella said…
I dunno what to say..
This post was surreal to me.Kinda misty....peppered with the lovely words when your wisdom and litterati synchronise.

I love my mom,but we dont synchronise that well.Maybe cz of that.

Neway you take care.

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