a small token of kindness (11th August 2021)
it is apparent that the sun- being such a profound source of wellness- cannot speak. it is softer than the floors of a forest and quieter than the home of its ancestors.
in addition, the moon too- in its flame of glory- has nothing to share at all, except for the light it borrows. there are stars; with hues of dark blues and mellow oranges, with shades of a particular type, yet their communication is the faintest. and some days, they are inert, and exist no more than forced dots.
the air then, what purpose does it serve than fill up organs like balloons and leaves like paintings with colours? yet it speaks. with its force, with its scent, with its nothingness and most of the times, it carries the universe with it; wrapped in a woolen cardigan, soaked in the death of its tiny inhabitants.
the more opulent things in life are incapable of being talked about.
the sky has no tongue that can dictate the ingredients from the vessel of its heart. the sun has only but a mere hours of shine. the moon, pitifully, has just some costume-like light. and the air, absolutely nothing, with no presence or being.
but they do impact.
the tongue- although free to slip and run- has been prisoned between one's mind and heart. it serves the purpose of wings for a human; after all, how many a time has it flown and corrupted the masses?
therefore- while it does carry the waves of the ocean and the tropicals of the forests- it is the death of most things unseen.
it is what can break a heart- physically, like throwing a vase of flowers against granite- and not use a thing except your tongue for it. which is what can cause a hurricane in someone's life and which is how you can bury a murdered soul without a suspicious glance.
it is right to say then, that, freedom of the tongue is good, but like the wings that cannot soar past the sky, the beak of flesh too should be imprisoned with a limit.
#adropofhumanity
