When Death Spoke to Life Death once asked Life,“Why do they run toward you,and turn their faces from me?” Life lowered its eyes and said,“Because I dress myself in promises.I whisper tomorrow.I let them believe there is time.” “And you?” Death asked. “I arrive,” said Death,“without lies.I take nothing that was not already fragile.” They
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A Quiet Reflection At dusk, the mud road lies empty.I have walked it many times,barefoot once, hurried later, and slowly now. A jeep passes.Its sound is rough, brief.For a moment, dust rises,as if the road itself has something to say. Then the jeep is gone.The dust settles.The road becomes what it always was. This is
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A Quiet Reflection When the village sleeps,I notice things I never did when I was young. In my younger days, nights were filled with plans.Work. Worries. Tomorrow.Now, when the house grows quiet,I sit and listen. The palm leaves still move in the dark.They have been there longer than me.They have seen many people come and
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