Aps- The Muddled Utopian

If it matters so much, why do you wait till you lose it forever? if you value it so much, why don't you show efforts, why not assure it with kind words and actions? why take it for granted, why to push it till it breaks apart? Don't you know, Once the plant dries up, it'll never bloom again no matter how much you water it! The biggest mistake we make is we think we have time! Why not tend to it while it's still alive, why not to heal the hurt with love? Why wait till it dies? Every bond is work. Hard work. It needs communication, care, compromise, and chemistry. Like a seesaw, it will have its ups and downs, someday it'll feel like hell, someday it'll feel like heaven, But learn to plant a garden where it burns and a forest will grow. Embrace the demons and fall in love with madness. Because we all love to sign up for adventures and then why get scared to take leaps? There is no room for a middle way in relationships, scream, shout and le

Away from the rustle of the city, in faraway lands lies her nostalgia. She remembers the landscape like the back of her hand, those thorny bushes, those earthy roads, those clean water lakes. Every passing moment is a symphony of onomatopoeia. There is something there which sounds like her calling, like a scrapbook filled with cutouts of the best adventures. The air smells like stories and the soil beneath her feet holds her, like a dad teaching his little one to walk. Here there are no races to be won, no struggles for survival, on timelines to meet, no chores to be completed, no need to take care of anyone, you are taken care of here. You are groomed, you bloom. These fields are alive, they have conquered monsters of time, like Santa Claus on Christmas, they only know to gift smiles. The girl in the fennel field finds her wonder here, that sparkle in her eyes, that curiosity on her words, that love in her heart. Like fireflies on a moonless night, her existence sp

Who were you before the world broke your heart into pieces? Who were you before you found out that human wore masks? Who were you before you realized there is way more out there than meets the eye? That gurl who went looking for wildflowers and fireflies in the dark... That gurl who colored outside the lines... That gurl who opened her heart to everyone without filters... That girl who dreamt like there is no tomorrow and laughed like no one's watching... Do you remember her?? Hell yeah, you do! She is still alive and kicking, underneath the layers of dust on the book, locked in that old trunk in the attic, hidden behind that old photo frame... That girl is YOU and YOU my dear are a rock of the desert, who shines like a diamond in the sunshine and sparkles like a pearl in the moonlight...

A tiny branch can be someone's world, That little leaf can be someone's home, 🍂🌾 A little girl wandering on the rocky pathway discovered that today. A small red spec turned in to a beetle with intricate patterns when she went closer,  Fluttered its wings and welcome her in its enclosure. It was happy with what it had and celebrated it, nibbling. Be blessed with what you have, it told her scribbling. Wonder is what she beholds in her eyes, Wonder is what she found. 🐞 And wonder is what she will pass on. After all, little things take up the biggest spaces in our hearts ❣ just like this little beetle  🐞

The hills always called her to wander, The brown, the green, the yellow always tempted her to get lost, The hues like mosaic pretended to be a mirror of her insides, Rays of light reflecting from the scattered stones made her eyes sparkle with happiness... In the hidden trails, she sought the clues of unexplored horizons, The little crawlers and shrubs gave her company, And the dried leaves rolling with the wind in the woods became the travel music she loved... The rough grass blades  sometimes  gave her cuts, and little droplets of blood oozed out like dewdrops on fallen leaves, She revisited those scars when she missed the hills... The hills had the language of silence and conversed with her in their own secret language, the rough edges, the uneven paths, the uncertainty, the thrill, Her heart thumped a decibel higher, the hairs on the back of her neck sang a little louder, the hills were her calling and they always called her to wander... 

When you set your feet on unknown roads, when you believe in mirages, You discover some footprints hidden under the dried leaves and wonder! Who would have wandered here before you? What did they talk about? What deeds they do? It all lingers on in the air, it's for you to smell it's for you to encode and for you to decode! Those mountains will make you realize what a tiny spec you are in the playground of the universe... Those clouds will play hide and seek with you along with the sunrays... The twigs and trees will become your mates in crime  And those shores lines will help you paint your own map... Travel is not when you travel to different places or countries, travel is when you discover something new in the littlest of things and when you explore the new in the old... It may be stepping foot in a new country, or it may be just turning a stone upside down, as long as you unfold a new hue of nature, have a beautiful conversation w