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Intimate Workings Of My Heart

The more one is, the richer is all that one experiences I guess. As I sat right in the middle of a large crowd whose eyes were glued on me, wanting to hear about me, and from me, I found myself quietly turning towards my inner self. It was as if I was increasingly taking possession of myself, which, under apparent repose, goes on in the most intimate workings of my heart. I somehow felt that I was suddenly learning to see more clearly. I don’t know why it was so, but everything seemed to penetrate more deeply into me that day and it did not quite stop at the place where until now it always used to stop. I felt that I have an inner self of which I was ignorant. Everything goes thither now, what happens there I do not know. For what I know for sure is that I can no longer take words easy, for words and verses are not, as people imagine, simply feelings – they are experiences. I feel for the sake of a single word or verse, one must see many places, people and things. One must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the little flowers open in the morning. Time quickly puts an end to accidental fame and what scares me most is that I now have to be focused and write well.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Farahdeen,

    Raghu gave me the link to your blog. Though I haven't read much yet... I am greatly impressed by your thoughts and the way you write.

    I try to write myself. Am attempting children's stories. It would be really nice if you could help me with your feedback.