Skinny, dirty and under the blazing sun, this mother lie wearily feeding its young. Staring intently at me, watching my every move. If I were to go any closer, it will bear its teeth and show its claw. And there lies the young, completely oblivious to my presence, completely trusting in its mother's protection.
We use 'animal' as derogatory remark. Are we really better off? How many of our actions are not tainted by other desires? How much of our feelings are from the heart? How much do we trust? Do we ever give without expecting anything in return?
Friday, August 21, 2009
Mother's Love
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