memories

I can still visualize the pensive, soulful eyes of my mother, like a flashback to the yesteryear's, when the pace of life flowed like a river. All along like a master craftsman she was molding us to assimilate the shift of ages and face the world. From a caterpillar she cocoons us till like a butterfly we emerge into the world stage. Her love was never partial or personal…something beautiful, genuine, creative and renewing like an alchemy of pain and joy. The ultimate, source of inspiration, truth and perception in an adulterated world.