The End of Sadness

In the morning, it will all start –
The traffic monster will roar,
Gnashing its teeth at your window glass,
Threatening to crush you in its steel jaws.

The world will breach your senses,
With boulders of sounds and catapults of vision,
And holding you captive in your cubicle,
Will demand the ransom of Civilization.

The impish sun will filter through the panes,
The trees will gyrate to the rhythm of the breeze
And the sad music of the heavenly stars,
Will be remembered, but heard no more.

I have always been a great believer. I've flitted from one belief to another, from religion to atheism and from one philosophy to another, until I finally settled on J. Krishnamurti whose philosophy is that there is no philosophy. So now I firmly believe that there is nothing to believe. Now such a belief would, I believe, have been considered dangerous to society if the authorities had believed me to be of any consequence. No man of consequence they believe would waste his time on the pursuit of blogging!

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