On this day, Pascal constructed his mechanical calculator capable of addition and subtraction, called the pascaline. Although Pascal has his fame in the convenient representation of binomial coefficients, he was the one who invented Roulette, in his search for a perpetual motion machine. Sounds fun?
Legends say that he was a monk hideous about the calamities happening around him, along with his friend Fermat. And why not? He was a devout Catholic and theologian who often disappeared on secluded retreats to focus on his work. Where better to find solitude and peace than a monastery?
You sojourned silently in my heart like a perspicuous rain drop.
Yet, you interpreted the sitch as a whole.
You filled up my world with pride and joy of thunder.
Your solemn, and rapt smile captured the dreary, colorless soul.
… And transfiguring it by ceasing a blunder.
Thou occupy me the mystical herald and cajole.
… And indelibly conquer my veins to become my eighth wunder.
Will you fail to recognise the days,
when we walked hand-in-hand?
The moonlit dinner on the pavement,
the tedious walk on sultry afternoons,
Will the affection suffice the recognition?
..and make you go swoon?
The lengthy conversations on the essentials,
made us smile on the inside.
The obnoxious moments made us powerful,
while we captured love as it diversified.
Yet life chose the greatest of wires,
to separate us from an everlasting temptation.
If someday the game comes to an end,
the new world will converge on its own creation.
If one autumn morning I wake up to your cry,
it will be the zone where I’ll retain peace.
…and here I wait in my arena full of addiction,
in search of truth surrounding your depiction.
don’t forget me even if I disguise myself as a shadow;
Because life is what you made me, disguised as Joe.
You know life has halted for no reason embarking attitude. Life was part of the Donovans of fierceness, where people laugh at each other tackling the horror stories surrounding themselves.
Life is an emotion of eventuality, thus making it rich and awfully intertwine, yet embarking a gorgeous latitude of happiness and sadness. If it wasn’t for the lost euphoria, life would have shaped to be a small world of melodrama where life would laugh at all the technicalities at us.
Fools were taught, not to fight with love as they were the ones to win over and over again, thus finding inhospitable environments in unexpected places. Shattering thoughts struck us, and thus made the abondance of happiness and gloominess. Life knocked and made them cry for reasons unknown to many.
If only we were allowed to gaze past that secret door to centralise our curiosity and thus making love bear trust.
What happened? I am not blooming, and you know that. Is this how amour prope treats their playfellows?
Life is weird. Making those precipitate was not what we had in mind. I am waiting, and I will be deferring it till your eyes meet the presumptive.
Are you listening?
Clearly not. Else I wouldn’t be writing this.
Well if you are, clearly bring a bit of melancholy to the surroundings. I haven’t heard the birds chirp in a while. Have you?
I haven’t had a good guffaw in a patch. Well, if you do hear me, let me through the orchestra’s of the fellow beginnings.
Life is what you make me.
Life is what you made me.
When feeling and torture is synonymous,
Love is what that transforms to my euphony.
Do you remember the forest trees swinging.
And the moonlit desire of dreams shining?
Oh Yes, you do.
That night the blueness of the sky,
the greenness of the grass had absorbed the pain,
and yet we stand right where we start to cry.
Well, they laugh when we whine,
They dance to what we couldn’t enshrine.
Life is what we perceive,
Come dear, come near me.
Happiness cannot be redefined,
At least that night we will sing forgetting all agony.
…it was already Spring,
The frosty pelts had dwindled us,
I was lost in your spirit of upbringing,
as your presence was too sumptuous.
The arrogance of torture,
the chronicles of tiredness,
all allured to your departure,
with life in its very own clearness.
It is not I was abbe.
My heart pondered in vain.
Only to realize the journey was a lot paddy,
and to mitigate all the pain.
Well, I was plying in my dark hollowness,
where only I had the permission to visit.
My consecration to solemness,
That I had missed every minute.
There are predominantly three kinds of people in this world. First, the ones we love but don’t get any response. Second, the ones who loves us but we dont respond them. Third, the ones who loves us and we love them back.
The biggest problem in our society is that we think too much about the first kind, quite a bit about the second kind and completely forget the fact that the third kind of people do exist in our lives. Well, unsurprisingly they are the ones who loves us the most. So if we have had the prospect to measure love, we could have saved ourselves a hell lot of time thinking about the amount of yearning we composed. We could have then realized to value lesser known relations amongst friends and families a lot more. We could have valued the desirability of unconditional love. Love that’s wholehearted and unreserved.
We all reserve our exactness for the special ones these days, but deep inside we tend to pretermit the idea of cutting loose.
Love is not blind. It is statute and is all manipulated until it relents. Love is madness. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. But had it not been for those extreme convictions it could have been a different story all together.
Your life is just a presentation of your own belief that contradicts with most people on earth, yet there’s a reason behind that certitude. Life is beautiful. Amaze past it with ease.