كتب دينية
We chase the ghost of yesterday, In shadows where the memories play; But Time has washed the tracks away, And turned the colored fields to grey. [18]
We build our hopes on future sand, A kingdom in a distant land; But Time, with its relentless hand, Dissolves the very ground we planned. [19]
The past is but a graveyard's stone, A story that is no one's own; The seeds of sorrow we have sown, In winds that have already blown. [20]
The future is a phantom’s breath, A mask that hides the face of death; The weaver and the tangled meth, Of all the words the spirit saith. [21]
Between the memory and the scheme, We live within a waking dream; A ripple on a rushing stream, A flicker of a candle’s beam. [22]
Maya weaves the "before" and "next," A convoluted, ancient text; Leaving the weary soul perplexed, By phantom ghosts and shadows vexed. [23]
© 2026 Munindra Misra (كتاب إلكتروني): 6610001150891
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كتاب إلكتروني: 26 يناير 2026
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