Life Is A Pickle Poem by Arun Maji

Life is a pickle
I devour it.
Sometime it's too hot
sometime it's too sour;
but I devour it anyway.
Because
I love it anyway.

it's my love for pickle
that makes difference,
not heat or sourness.
Love can sweeten anything-
ugly wound, agonizing pain
rough terrain
everything.

What is left in a flower
if you extract fragrance from it?
Only few dead colors!
What is left in life
if you extract love from it?
Just noise of ticking watch!

Love,
you will live;
live gracefully.

© Arun Maji
Painting: Iman Maleki