The Milkman

On my journey to somewhere, I encountered a Milkman, on his motorbike. He had a peculiar moustache which hinted at his stature and life as he lived it. Clearly he wasn’t just a fluke. He has travelled. Went through life. Rises and the falls. He had been to many somewheres, than I can imagine. Still he was travelling now. Like me. To a somewhere.


…and then I am born

And so are you.

Along the way we try to make sense of things, and settle just once and for all….

Only forgetting that the path we are led to is nothing but a path of Death. Only I do not think death ever happens. Only an illusion sets in, making us to reflect and believe on a deteriorating body, slowly becoming incompetent of containing yourself. And the same for a deteriorating self unable to serve You. The real You.

And then it happens finally. The Body dies. Your-self dies. The illusion breaks, revealing the abyss of No-thing.

But not me though. I AM BORN AGAIN. I’ve risen again. And as I said…..

And so are you.