Season I.
I stand at the fence as I see the other greener pastures. With my sad
eyes, I try smiling to avoid anyone catching the glimpse of my dismay.
I turn around to walk back to my garden, only to be pulled back again
and again by the lush greener fields on the other side of the fence.
Season II.
I stand at the fence today as I see the other pastures. However,
today, the owner of the field looks different. I stare into the
neighbor's eyes and see the familiar self. Today, the field across the
fence, his field, looks less green. Looks a lot like my side of the
fence. Or rather, worse. I realize how he has been standing at his
fence, his eyes speaking of yester years of joy. I feel sad. It hits
me. I gather some seeds, some plants, some grass and walk to his side.
I try and I try to complete his greener pastures like they were. I try
to complete him, only by casting his pastures greener.
Season III.
I stand at the fence, astonished, Rather surprised. I see, how today,
his fence is back to being green, as much as my sadness is back to
realizing how much greener is his fence compared to mine. I sigh and
watch in dismay with heavy sinking heart yearning to have as greener a
fence as his again.
In between these seasons and beyond, as much as the grass is dependent
on owner, it is dependent on the seasons that cast their magic on it. I
forget that both sides of the fence flirt with the clouds, get hurt by
the sun and healed by water. I forget how seasons have been making the
grass on both sides greener or less.
We all have our souls and we all have fields composed of our worldly
factors. Happiness and Sadness are seasons. Sighing over greener
pastures across the fence or giving grass to the other field cannot
stop the seasons from happening. At the end of the day, what matters
is the neighbor and not his fields. What matters is me and not my
fence. At the end of the day, we all put our things aside and walk
back alone into our own souls. And when it comes to the soul, Peace within is the
Absolute Greener side of the fence.
I stand at the fence as I see the other greener pastures. With my sad
eyes, I try smiling to avoid anyone catching the glimpse of my dismay.
I turn around to walk back to my garden, only to be pulled back again
and again by the lush greener fields on the other side of the fence.
Season II.
I stand at the fence today as I see the other pastures. However,
today, the owner of the field looks different. I stare into the
neighbor's eyes and see the familiar self. Today, the field across the
fence, his field, looks less green. Looks a lot like my side of the
fence. Or rather, worse. I realize how he has been standing at his
fence, his eyes speaking of yester years of joy. I feel sad. It hits
me. I gather some seeds, some plants, some grass and walk to his side.
I try and I try to complete his greener pastures like they were. I try
to complete him, only by casting his pastures greener.
Season III.
I stand at the fence, astonished, Rather surprised. I see, how today,
his fence is back to being green, as much as my sadness is back to
realizing how much greener is his fence compared to mine. I sigh and
watch in dismay with heavy sinking heart yearning to have as greener a
fence as his again.
In between these seasons and beyond, as much as the grass is dependent
on owner, it is dependent on the seasons that cast their magic on it. I
forget that both sides of the fence flirt with the clouds, get hurt by
the sun and healed by water. I forget how seasons have been making the
grass on both sides greener or less.
We all have our souls and we all have fields composed of our worldly
factors. Happiness and Sadness are seasons. Sighing over greener
pastures across the fence or giving grass to the other field cannot
stop the seasons from happening. At the end of the day, what matters
is the neighbor and not his fields. What matters is me and not my
fence. At the end of the day, we all put our things aside and walk
back alone into our own souls. And when it comes to the soul, Peace within is the
Absolute Greener side of the fence.
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