Hole In Soul

The heart pulsates and felicitates you the most beautiful experience on the earth which is inevitably the life, ‘the miracle of mysteries’. A newborn who is only aware of its mother’s lap often unleashes a gummy smile perhaps because its soul dances with ardour. It is not perfunctory that alacrity is the nature of soul. When you are a child you are the fighting spirit for your heart has no regrets and it is full of zest. Then gradually you grow up allowing your lines of fate to extend. Your lenient fingers are now stringent fist. The power of rationality and acceptance epitomizes within you but still you are in the grasp of ambiguity. ‘The secrecy of life seems to be the chronicle of infinity.’ You look to be the beauty of convenience but surreptitiously destiny is preparing something else. Something you can’t ever imagine. Hitherto on earth norms had never changed and never will. Now the red is faded into velvet of white to celebrate the hole of soul with the unsolicited incense of tuberose. The hole is too brutal to keep your soul’s insignia indeed.