I was on my terrace again. Sounds as if I was climbing to my brain and making a deep enquiry. Not though.
This evening was very fresh and the small plane at an altitude to me was like a small snail just moving and I could not keep my head or eye on it for long.
There were other things. That wonderful blue sheet of canvas was amazing and having seen it several times it never made me tired and every time I look up it was there.
And I only do not see it. When I see it I wonder how I have missed it for too long. But I will board a different plane altogether after seeing it.
What then happens to the sky when I don’t see it? Nothing. It used to be like it was when I saw last.
Me seeing and not seeing enjoying it or ignoring it does not make a difference to it. It is neither for a boquette nor for a brick bat. It doesn’t need me. No one either. It can be there for no one and not even for itself. A probing mind on science or astronomy can resolve by saying the existence in years but what about and how about it being there
Do we need mathematics here or the art of beatitude and wonder of the nature?
Am I the part of the sky or the earth?
Why should I be fascinated towards that blue bed sheet?
How is that I become nothing when I am with it?
Is that being nothing is everything in life?
I am back to work and that sky is in me and I can make it alive anytime I want.
After all the very thought of the sky can evoke me if I think about it.
I am the thought. sky is being thought . I am the sky. I wonder at it. At me too.