Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Echoes of silence

Funerals were commonplace in the valley. And it was not suprising. The gunfires and bombings heralded their mornings instead of temple chimes and prayers. The evening dusks came with tears and cries. Goodbyes were said often to the loved ones. That was their price for living near the border, those manmade boundaries on paper that distinguished where their terrains and territories ended and where the others began. Yes, funerals were commonplace in the valley. No massive rituals. No waiting for distant dear ones. Swift quick prayers whispered in the soft winds. You don't need echoes where silence is in abundance.

Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Chimes

2 comments:

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.