Friday, April 27, 2012

Colors of music

I want to fly with the wind and be dispersed like colors from a cello
Floating on the wind like pollen from a dandelion
Hanging on a branch like a frozen droplet of water
Not falling, but just stuck in time
And then disintegrating like a dry leaf when someone steps on it

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Why exist?

Times keep changing and nothing remains constant forever, not even the ocean or land, which has been around for millions of years. What are we? A spec of dust in this huge universe or an atom or perhaps just an electron? If existence itself has no meaning, why do we exist? And if we have to give meaning to our existence, why do we have no control over it?