I light my pyre

There was ripple distorting the reflection, expanding into the silent lake. It was caused by drops of perspiration on his face watching himself. The distorted image seemed to disappear in the water. He had a vague memory of the pyre he burned, a betrayal to his agony. The flame seemed to dissolve the hatred and pain. Since he never vowed to accept all the differences he saw in between the world's. On his path,betrayal was his friend. He had seen alot of it, it was der when he cried, it's there somehow. Unblinking in the reflection he clearly saw shallow depth waves of his image floating on water. A pyre burning again at a distance. This was his body today! And he watched it burn down to ashes to eliminate attachment. Those ashes he smeared it on the linga, he did raw abhishek of his ashes over his lord. The all accepting still waits for his call, or he waits for the Lord's call. When Waiting becomes a quality, it finds humility within. It sheds notions u have about life. Notions that is given by someone. Only information, no intelligence to it. The ego feeds on information, conciousness feeds on intelligence.  Tales can only make u wonder for the moment, tales won't liberate you. The world is full of tales to tel, watevr is left is given in the name of religion. Transformation happens when evrything of that remains reduces to nothing.