i am in hate with you

it was love then | and it is hate now,


then the glimmer of assertiveness | now the darkness of agression,

then of protecting confidence | now of over-shadowing pride,

for the living ideals they stood | for the dead rigidity they became,

the impressive surity | the annoying arrogance ,

the perseverant's ambition to try| the
un-reasonable's refusal to give up,

the fur-soft sensitivity | the disgusting self pity,

the beauty of destiny | the casualness of coincidences,

of endless stream of understanding | and bottomless pit of tolerance,

the hope that partnered challenges | the dismay that tagged problems,

the moments of freedom | under the covers of ignorance,

The wonderfull possesion in shivering hands | to the rude awakening of unberable weight,

the once dream culmination | now wrapped invisible in the wisdom of a life lesson,


all that built 'i am in love with you', created 'i am in hate with you'.

The monk who bought a front loading washing machine

It was a quiet night. He sat on the clean kitchen floor. The soft music playing in the back-ground, faint enough, ensured that the night’s still quiet. The bright yellow can of draught beer when poured it into a glass mug, and the fresh and gold bubbles went down, made a sound that seemed like the only note missing in a jazz song.

Sipping into the beer, he watched the front loading washing machine begin its slow and rhythmic patterns. It went about cleaning step by step, rotating at different speeds, mixing at every step what it needed – hot water, detergent and softener.

There something purposeful about watching mechanics in action. The effort is taken away by a device; his effort. As he observed it, he imagined the effort he was not expending. It made him feel lighter.

Automation created the time to observe it….endlessly.