To provide some context. This is the finale to a short story I plan on writing in the near future about a father and his family living in extreme poverty and under immense pressures from the society within which they dwell to conform to adharma. To follow the easier path that would provide them with greater material comfort and security but rob them also of the priceless treasures of the spirit. So its a story about weathering the storm of illusion and physical injury for the long-term preservation of the spirit, set on the cosmic, everlasting stage. I was feeling inspired recently and decided to take a break from other work to jot down this inspiration, enjoy! :)

Melting, moulding, the aged eyes stood shimmering before the scene, staring intently at those present.

Weariness, loss, suffering and time marked that stoic, understanding gaze. A face wizened by time held placid, without judgement or reproach, observing with detached simplicity. As the time wearied man stared out into the world that had oppressed him so, suffered him much, his shape began to distort. The set jaw, firm mouth and slow blinking eyes began to shimmer intently, shaking and contorting as the shape of [character name] began to shift. The visage of the time-bent man began to grow hazy as the change came on. Then, where a once stood a ripened weathered man, was a young boy, peering out from under a brow of shaggy unkempt hair that fell down into his eyes. The same kind, stoic, wise eyes of the man before.

The child stood for but a moment peering at all that had gathered, before turning with a hearty giggle and running back, barefoot, toward the horizon. Laughter echoed from his tiny mouth and from the patter of his unshod feet, as he returned from whence he had come, jubilant and overcome in gladness. Leaving those who had done so much wrong unto him and his behind, to contemplate the righteousness of their actions.

As the young boy skipped and danced off, into the golden-rays of a new morning light, the arms of the Mother unfolded, welcoming Her child, let out to pasture, back home once more.

And so does one chapter close as another begins.