Knowledge

I walked home through fields heavy with shadow and felt the weight of waiting. It seemed like an end, a closing in, until I saw the first star pierce the black cloth above the banyan tree. That moment taught me that what appears as loss or silence is often only a container holding something precious yet hidden. The night does not keep us; it gathers us together so we may…

There is a day in my memory when I sought to be understood by all, speaking loudly so they might hear my name. I filled the valley with my voice, believing it was kindness to share my light. The crowd gathered, nodding as if they held the truth, yet their eyes were hollow, looking only for what I could give them. I felt a terrible pride bloom within me, like…

I remember watching my own hands as a boy, trembling before the clay pot on the wheel. I feared the spinning would break me, that the motion was too wild for stillness. But when I let go of fear and found joy in the turning, the clay did not shatter; it rose. The joy itself became the force that shaped the vessel.

I once sat in a hall listening to philosophers debate the soul until my mind grew feverish and empty. Then I walked into the desert with a dervish who said nothing but held my hand while the wind tore at his robe. In that silence, I felt a sudden certainty rise within me like water breaking a seal. This is how one knows truth: not by hearing many words, but…

The air inside the ward hangs thick with the smell of disinfectant and old linen, a silence broken only by the coughing of men who fought under different flags. I sit by the window watching the sun dip low over the Potomac, my own body trembling in its chair, listening to the quiet rhythm of breaths that should have been taken long ago. These walls hold more than just new…

I saw this servant who had been a labourer long enough that his clothes were worn smooth, yet inside him there was no old man at all. He was fresh as if born today, ready to dig and turn the earth again. I thought of a monk who spends hours polishing his shoes until they shine like glass, while his heart remains muddy and cold. He calls this worship, but…