Indifferent Weaves

The Rosary of Existence

Nature Herself threads

Every rosary of joy and woe.

Waking and sleeping,

In every line on the palm,

She threads the rosary of joy and woe…

She wanders down memory lane,

To bygone eras of seasons in bloom.

Chuckling at the future, often glimpsed in fleeting visions,

Holding darkness in one hand, and light in the other,

She threads the rosary of joy and woe…

Show me the one who possesses the courage

To confront Her head-on.

We all dwell here, mere playthings in Her grasp.

Wherever we venture, She ever lingers, confronting us,

And threading the rosary of joy and woe…

With a procession of mournful sighs in the heart,

And pyres of grief in the eyes,

When the winds of despair rage,

Sleep loses its substance!

For, the depths of the human soul, too,

Are filled with countless storms,

Threading the rosary of life and death…

She relentlessly pursues those who conceal themselves,

With every passing moment!

Wherever footprints begin to fade,

She appears, firmly planting her feet there!

She then washes every wound of the heart

With tears,

Weaving the beads of Lot and Fate…