Spirit, art and life unfolded

The Fittonia, or nerve plant, captivates with its intricate veined patterns, almost resembling an artist’s fine embroidery on nature’s canvas. Its delicate yet striking leaves evoke a sense of wonder, blurring the line between the natural and the surreal. Encountering such designs can subtly shift one’s mood, inviting reflection and a renewed appreciation for nature’s quiet artistry.

Bird or butterfly? Am I a bird or a butterfly, Evading human eye So swift and free? Same size as a butterfly, but moving rapidly branch to branch, My glowing mane and sharp beak give me away, Never still, I flit and flutter, here and there I'll play. I make soft, shrill cries, my voice sharpening the air, My black plumage glistens, beyond compare. Who am I?

After many wanderings, I return to mother's lap. Tired, I find solace in mother's lap. In distress, I seek refuge in mother's lap. Shaken to my roots, I cling to mother's lap. When arrows of misfortune hit, I flee to mother's lap. Lonely and deserted, I find comfort in mother's lap. In life's raging storms, I anchor myself in mother's lap. When my heart sings melancholic tunes, I nestle in mother's lap. When hopes seem lost, I retreat to mother's lap. In this world, mother's lap is the greatest sanctuary. There, I unravel the mysteries of life and learning. I recite the Vedas, and revisit the timeless wisdom of tatva gnana. Mother's lap is the seat of learning, a sacred hermitage for enlightenment.

Graced by morning's rays, night rubs eyes of sleep, Lost traces of sleep's caress. What a beautiful creation, What recreation do we need? It's all sleeping, waking, An interval before final sleep, Never to weep, always keep Beauty's deep.

Cross-legged, eyes closed, I seek Not worldly pleasures, nor heavenly delights unique No golden showers, nor sensual indulgences sway But a simple, untainted wish for silence and peace forever Unlimited and unbound, though essence of the divine shedding impurities of life,, Yet I yearn, lost in Maya's sea That's the crux

Copy, paste, the link's in the sink Washing down, a flunk to think Wasting no ink, the words just blink Blink, blink, you shrink Here's my interpretation of the poem: "Digital Downfall" is a thought-provoking commentary on the consequences of excessive digital engagement. The opening lines, "Copy, paste, the link's in the sink," suggest the mindless consumption and dissemination of information online. "Washing down, a flunk to think" implies that this digital indulgence can lead to mental stagnation and a lack of critical thinking. "Wasting no ink, the words just blink" may symbolize the ephemeral nature of online content and the fleeting attention span of digital consumers. The final line, "Blink, blink, you shrink," is particularly striking. It could be interpreted as a warning that excessive digital engagement can lead to a shrinking of one's perspective, empathy, and ultimately, one's sense of self. Overall, the ...