Mara's Classics

🕊️🕊️🕊️ There once was a young man who dreamt of becoming a great artist. He would pick up his papers and pencils and sit under an apple tree every day looking for the hardest thing to draw that met his eyes. First, he drew a fig tree up ahead. Then he drew the river that rippled by. At last, it was a tasty ripe apple that hung lustily from a branch. "I am very good," he thought as he inspected his works. Truly, his works were masterpieces worth praising. His craftsmanship was as flawless as the shades of pencil in his drawings. One day, the young man gazed intently at his work that he grew proud. "Have I really done this?" was his continuous question. He would then finger every detail of the drawings and nod his head with pride. This grew into a habit, and instead of drawing under the apple tree, he would sit and idly admire his work. "You are not an artist at all," the apple tree rustled its leaves in disgust one bright day. "What do you mean? Loo...

Voiceless! Yet I sing Through the sweet tunes Of the hand plucked string Mouthless! Yet I speak From the depts of my heart My soul reaches its peak Wordless! Yet I create From me flows golden melodies Hidden within a plate   This plate holds my voice, my mouth and my words.

What I love  Is to wake up In the morning To a glorious sunrise What I love more Is a brilliant noon To tell us  That the day will end soon What I love most  Is a dazzling sunset Which ushers a magnificent twilight That bids us good night.