spring is almost here

A point.

Everything starts from that point.

Yes, there has to be a point. From where a person grows. Or crumbles.

When you make it to that point- it is yours to decide. The path you choose shapes your destiny.

When people say, God works in mysterious ways...They don't mean it by saying the process which God chooses to work is obscure or something beyond your knowing.  He chooses what is meant to happen. And when it happens. You declare frustration. You give up thinking that you are the victim here. But soon as you accept it, make your way through it, you sort through the puzzle- reaching to the ultimate result of satisfaction- What happened was meant to be. It was bound to be. And God knew all along. It was you who had taken the time to process it. You needed Him to break it down for you.

The destiny that we're given are bound to happen.

Now come back to the point where it is yours to decide. Yours to choose.

Now society will make it obvious for you. Work hard. Get a job. Marry someone and make children. Grow old. Finally die with dignity.

 Bound to happen.

Then why? All for nothing?

 Beauty of the universe still undiscovered. Time so short. Age is a matter of concern.
You have to do something to leave a mark. Let it be something microscopic, let it be something so tiny in its existence that everything seems huge beside it. Do something before you mix into the ground, a tree growing from the place where your heart was once pounding, when you were a breathing thing.
The moment you stopped breathing, the moment your body turned numb, you stopped becoming. You stopped where you were. It is scary I know.

Nobody has time for anyone. Unless you are some one famous. Made some life changing influence on people...you will vanish soon after your soul leaves the body. People will mourn shortly then days will pass, the concept of you will also pass with the details gone. Your smile will fade. Your smell can no longer be smelt.

You will be looked down as an ordinary person, led an ordinary life, minding own business, her world centered and small.

You won't be put into theory...You won't be written into a poem. Your birth date will come and go, without a celebration on earth.

 You know what the biggest problem is? The point that grows. The point that collects memories and affection and moments.The point that suddenly stops without a notice. And never starts again. Just stops. For eternity. Just stops. After everything it has been through. It just...stops. Just like that. Soundless. Blackness. Motionless. Eternity.