Think

Think…

Little playthings of dust and clay, soul breathed within, tiny animated figures in God's own world... One may wonder if we are here for a reason or just to cater every whim of He who created us... But then again, is it not what our own crooked laws chant? The creator and created, bound in a contract, forever time that may come? One to be the puppeteer, other the stringed ragdoll?

Are we here for a reason? Has God actually written a destiny for us? To fulfill a certain unknown task? Or are we merely the figment of his divine imagination? Or is it such, that he lives through us? Giving each of us a part of Him? Is it so that all the souls combined together are God himself in all glory? And above all... Does he walk among us? Disguised in a more humane, perceptible form?

Or is he the wind that blows through my hair? The rain that falls on dry earth? Or the dust that gives birth to new life? Is God this whole universe and we little shreds of him? Is he the sound of a baby's laugh as she stares in amazement at the world around? Or is he colours of the rainbow after the shower? Is he the peace I feel while I sleep? Or is he the joy that I feel when I lay eyes on my son?

Last night I sat in front of a lone tree in a garden, and watched it standing isolated yet firm in all the emptiness around it; and I wondered, is God like that? The night breeze rustled its leaves, and then again it came to me, are we like the leaves on the tree, and God being who we hold on to? Different leaves, on separate branches, coming together as the wind pushes them close for a moment, introducing them to the touch, the feel; and some drift apart later, others stay, on branches folded close by the gust of a passing by whisper of unspoken words...

And then, where does it lead us to? Is the whole world a delusion? Created by my own mind? Am I God, looking at the world through the eyes of a human? Or is it all just fake? The touch I feel, the air I breathe, sound I hear? Is it just an illusion? What if I am just a sigh in the air, unheard? In my own world? Where everything is just a pretence...? Rash as it may sound, could it be that even God is my imagination, my own creation? To justify things that I imagine and yet not comprehend? Is fate not just another justification for things we do not understand? Like why a woman is blamed for bringing misfortune upon a man who cannot even treat himself with respect, let alone others? Why is it that we be unfair to those who cannot stand up for themselves against a whole crowd or society, and then name it a norm?

Fate is such a simple way, an illusion, to turn away from the loss one suffers in life; to blame the misfortunes and injustice inflicted upon people, yet it coming from those not unlike we ourselves. Why is it that the mistakes and cruelty of man be blamed upon fate, an entity that cannot justify itself? Or perhaps that is exactly the reason fate is conjured, to cater the misgivings of man weak against temptation?

Is God love? That which tugs me forward by my heart? Why do we not understand love, and if we do, why does it spring up in the most unexpected of places and times? Why does a man love a woman strange to her? And to an extent as to forget who he is? Why do people break the boundaries, the norms, to reach out to someone? Is it time that we reconsider our own laws? Or does this happen because God makes a soul, puts it into two bodies and them pushes them apart on earth, to watch how they slowly crawl towards each other? Wouldn't that make God unfair, cruel? But then again, is there anyone who can question His divine will and power? His greatness and affection?

Note: Once again, just a piece of writing, questions that do come to the mind at times, and even so, it helps to think about things, makes you clearer about what you want, what you need, and what you believe. Comments and suggestions are most welcome.