We should do something about it.
What if the memories don’t die and we carry their burden on our head?
What if the tail of the tadpole don’t die and the frog carries the burden of a tail?
What if this moment doesn’t die and the next moment carries the burden of the last moment?
What if my childhood doesn’t die and my youth carries the burden of my childhood?
What if the winter doesn’t die and the spring carries the burden of winter in it.
What if my sorrow doesn’t die and my happiness carries the burden of my sorrows?
Isn’t death such a wonderful gift the precious boon?
Isn’t death the only reality the ultimate truth?
Isn’t the art of living is nothing but the art of dying?
Where is the demarcation of living and dying?
Can we learn to die…to live?
What if the memories don’t die and we carry their burden on our head?
What if the tail of the tadpole don’t die and the frog carries the burden of a tail?
What if this moment doesn’t die and the next moment carries the burden of the last moment?
What if my childhood doesn’t die and my youth carries the burden of my childhood?
What if the winter doesn’t die and the spring carries the burden of winter in it.
What if my sorrow doesn’t die and my happiness carries the burden of my sorrows?
Isn’t death such a wonderful gift the precious boon?
Isn’t death the only reality the ultimate truth?
Isn’t the art of living is nothing but the art of dying?
Where is the demarcation of living and dying?
Can we learn to die…to live?