Author: Reena Saxena

This week’s one liner from https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2022/10/20/reenas-xploration-challenge-253/ reminded me of something Mum said when she got a set of cordless phones. This was before mobiles. It took her a day before she asked for her old phone back.

“Why doesn’t the phone ring stop? I’ve pressed all buttons.”

‘That’s what makes the noise Grannie,’ Chelsea said, taking hold of her birthday present.

‘Well, it’s a bit stupid, don’t you think. Also, it keeps showing me notifications. Look at this one. I’ve won some sort of lottery, but I haven’t paid for anything. All I need to do is click on this link, and I’ll be a millionaire.’

‘No, Grannie, don’t do that, you’ll get a virus.’

‘No, I’ve had the flu jab, Covid, and pneumonia, I won’t get any virus.’

Chelsea sat by her grandmother, ninety if she was a day, and didn’t quite know how to explain a computer virus…

a lifetime of accummulation
vivid memories of trepidition
sandwiched in between
blissful experiences
adding more shades
and colorful pigmentations
replaying over and over
encountering different characters
worn too many garments
learning too many lessons
but then you choose
to go on for another ride
another trip, another dive
another run for this
game of life
just one more of this-
stupendous earthly sojourn
and all those gained knowledge
must be erased
like a soup of colors
down the drain
for that is the agreement
for wanting to come back
in order to play the game
one more time
in the ticket,
it has been encrypted
amnesia of the soul
that is the one rule
no recollection
forgetting is unlearning
for this is- a reset, a restart
aren’t you happy, you are
a white blank slate
no colors, no dots
but once again free
to become
who you are.

https://amanpan.blog/2022/10/18/moonwashed-weekly-prompt-stupendous-october-18-2022/

©A.max…

hallowed waters gaze
‘tween the above and below
mirrors to the soul

My soul was made in colour. Dark shades that once boasted of unending depths, and bright hues which flirted with boundless heights. But alas, the world judges in black and white. In one’s idea of right and wrong. In one’s perception of darkness and light.

Fall of reflections
‘pon season’s winds and rivers
one leaf, many paths

My soul is a concoction of hues. A cup of Familiar with drops of Strange.
It forms in a cauldron of Order, over flames of Chaos.
Uniqueness was meant to be my strength, yet the world has deemed it weakness.

life may lurk within
yet wait on the edge of sight
dawn embracing dusk

If evil is born from good, then good can be born from evil. For our souls are not damned by a father’s sin…