“Real life seeks the gentle slopes at the back of Mount Improbable,
while creationists are blind to all but the daunting precipice at the front.”
“Real life seeks the gentle slopes at the back of Mount Improbable,
while creationists are blind to all but the daunting precipice at the front.”
“The word ‘mundane’ has come to mean ‘boring’ and ‘dull’, and it
really shouldn’t - it should mean the opposite. Because it comes from the Latin
mundus, meaning ‘the world’. And the world is anything but dull: The world is
wonderful. There’s real poetry in the real world. Science is the poetry of
reality.”
“Fundamentalist religion is hell-bent on ruining the scientific
education of countless thousands of innocent, well-meaning, eager young minds.
Non-fundamentalist, ‘sensible’ religion may not be doing that. But it is making
the world safe for fundamentalism by teaching children, from their earliest years,
that unquestioning faith is a virtue.”
"Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who
prays." — Soren Kierkegaard
A whispered plea, a fervent sigh,
A soul's embrace beneath the sky.
No mountain shifts, no star takes flight,
But in the heart, a wondrous light.
For prayer, it's not a sculptor's hand,
To mold the heavens, understand.
It shapes the soul, it stills the storm,
And whispers peace, a gentle form.
The deity remains serene,
Unmoved by supplication keen.
But in the soul, a change takes hold,
A story woven, brave and bold.
The heart, once fractured, finds its mend,
With faith's soft touch, a whispered trend.
The spirit soars, the spirit grows,
As prayer's sweet balm the sorrow flows.
No power shifts, no throne is swayed,
But hope's soft ember, brightly played.
The supplicant, transformed by grace,
Finds strength within, a tranquil space.
So pray, dear soul, with heart so true,
For in the act, a change anew.
Not God's vast form, but yours, is changed,
By love's soft touch, a peace exchanged.
"This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no
need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple;
the philosophy is kindness."
— Dalai Lama
No gilded halls, no sacred plea,
No intricate creed, for you and me.
A simpler faith, a gentle art,
Within the heart, a tender start.
Our minds, a temple, vast and deep,
Where wisdom blooms, where secrets sleep.
Our hearts, a shrine, with love alight,
Kindness the flame, burning ever bright.
No need for priests, or scripture old,
Just acts of grace, a story told.
Compassion's touch, a helping hand,
A whispered word, across the land.
For in this world, of joy and strife,
A single act, of gentle life,
Can mend a soul, and ease the pain,
A kindness shown, will conquer all again.
No need for dogma, grand and vast,
Our temple built, within our cast.
Of empathy, and understanding's art,
A simple truth, within the heart.
"Religion doesn't make people bigots.
People are bigots and they use religion to justify their ideology."
— Reza Azlan
A gilded cage, a whispered creed,
Where faith takes root, and shadows breed.
Religion's balm, a soothing sound,
But hearts are stained, and darkness bound.
No holy text, nor sacred rite,
Forgets the darkness, hides the blight.
The seeds of hate, within us sown,
Find fertile ground, where bigotry's grown.
The preacher's words, the hymns so high,
May mask the venom in the eye.
A twisted lens, a warped design,
To justify the hateful shrine.
For bigotry, a festering sore,
Lies not in scripture, but within the core.
The heart's cold fire, the judging glance,
Are primal forces, time and chance.
Religion's cloak, a borrowed grace,
To hide the demons in this place.
The stained-glass windows, painted bright,
Can't wash the darkness from the night.
The faithful flock, with pious zeal,
May unknowingly the hateful steal.
For prejudice, a wicked art,
Is woven deep within the heart.
So let us see, beyond the veil,
The truth that hides, the wounds prevail.
Not in the dogma, old and worn,
But in the hearts, where hate is born.
7.
“We’re
here for a reason. I believe a bit of the reason is to throw little torches out
to lead people through the dark.” ―Whoopi Goldberg
4.
“There is not one big cosmic meaning for all; there is only the meaning we each
give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual
novel, a book for each person.” ―Anais Nin
A whispered tale, a printed dream,
A book, a treasure, a vibrant gleam.
A gift bestowed, a heart's embrace,
A world unfolds in time and space.
Its pages turn, a gentle sigh,
Secrets unfold, beneath the sky.
A story starts, a journey's call,
A world of wonder, standing tall.
With every read, a new delight,
A touch of magic, pure and bright.
Each chapter fresh, a vibrant hue,
A book's a gift, eternally new.
From childhood dreams to grown-up fears,
It soothes the soul, dispelling tears.
A comfort found, a silent friend,
A book's a gift, that knows no end.
Again and again, you open wide,
Discovering worlds, side by side.
A constant friend, a guiding star,
A book's a gift, forever far.
So cherish well, this precious art,
A book's a gift, within the heart.
For in its pages, wisdom lies,
A world of wonder, beneath your eyes.
AKSHR
Words can be like x-rays
if used properly can pass through anything
Like X-rays,
words, if keen and true,
Can pierce the
veil, the shadows through.
They scan the
soul, with subtle art,
And reach the
core, a beating heart.
Through masks
of pride, and walls of stone,
Their power
flows, a force unknown.
They carve
their way, a whispered plea,
And set the
spirit free, you see.
Through layers
deep, of doubt and fear,
They
penetrate, dispelling cheer
That's false
and fleeting, light and thin,
Revealing
truths, where shadows spin.
A surgeon's
skill, a writer's grace,
They find the
wound, in time and space.
With words
precise, a gentle hand,
They heal the
soul, across the land.
So wield them
well, these potent things,
These
whispered prayers, on silent wings.
For words,
like X-rays, sharp and bright,
Can pierce the
darkness, into light.
AKSHR
“When you are joyful, when you say yes to life and
have fun and project positivity all around you,
you become a sun in the center of every constellation,
and people want to be near you.” — Shannon L. Alder
“To
stop the destruction of our world and the disintegration of society that is
happening everywhere we look we have to fix the cause of the problems at its
source, which is us humans, our psychosis.”
― Jeremy Griffith
Each day is a little life:
every waking and rising a little birth,
every fresh morning a little youth,
every going to rest and sleep a little death.
Satisfaction consists in freedom from pain,
which is the positive element of life.
The essence of science is independent thinking, hard work, and not equipment. When I got my Nobel Prize, I had spent hardly 200 rupees on my equipment. C. V. Raman2
The hand you are dealt is determinism;
the way you play it is free will.
The dealt hand, life's capricious game,
A deck of fate, a whispered name.
With cards of joy, and cards of pain,
A shuffling world, a constant strain.
The Ace of Hearts, a love so true,
The King of Spades, a shadowed hue.
A Queen of Diamonds, bright and bold,
A Jack of Clubs, a story told.
Each turn, a choice, a risk to take,
A whispered hope, a silent wake.
The Joker wild, a twist unseen,
A sudden turn, a life serene.
The hand you're dealt, a fate you bear,
A silent pact, beyond compare.
To play the game, with heart and might,
And face the odds, both day and night.
The Queen of sorrow, tears may fall,
The King of triumph, answers all.
The Ace of courage, stands so tall,
A whispered prayer, answering all.
So play your hand, with grace and art,
Embrace the twists, within the heart.
For in this game, of cards and fate,
A masterpiece, we're all to create.