There was a time when I cared so much about how the water
gets into the coconut. Then, I would hold one of those cone-shaped fruits in my
hand and shake to see if there would be a leakage - an opening, but found none.
I lost my quest with childhood.
With age, I realised that life is too short to bother about questions that won't yeild their meaning easily; individuals that make a simple and exciting phenomenon as life a complex and an arduous task. Time has a way of demystifying mysteries.
Even the farmer knows that not all seeds will sprout. Yet, he waits patiently after seasoned labour, for that first sprout, that little shoot of his seeded travail.
Let the storm rage. Let the mountain quake. Let hurricane tomorrow well-up a sea of doubt, pessimism and debris, cushioned from yesterday's unfruitful venture. Yet, I'll stand, resolute in my resolve that life is what you make of it.
Miss you.
