Thoughts are borne in the wings of tumult. When the sea gets boisterous and the tattooed sails give way the helmsman gives up the wheel and relishes the fury that is so beautiful and subtle. He bows his head down in obeisance and with folded arms he whispers into the howling wind - "What wrong have I done that You show your wrath unto me?". And assuredly he gets his reply. He is the source and destination of the question. The problems arise and subside in the mind. And it is through this constant questioning that thoughts, myriads spout out from the heart of the nature. Expressions on the other hand are the superfluous exposition of the thoughts. The mind expounds all that arise and assimilates them in layers. Thoughts that are old are vaulted in memory and is found spouting out in solitude. Rabindranath Tagore says that solitude is in the mind. Expressions both young and old bring joy and posses the power to instigate imagination. Words are dead and it cannot touch anything living said U.G. Krishnamurthy. But what they do is antagonize the sense of creativity and this has the power to touch only that is living, only that lives and rends the palisade of corpus observations stocked in our memory.
Expressions are myriad like the choices of the brush to the artist. But the canvas is set and waits for us to fill them up.
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