The grip of a fist holding memories is strong enough, as if a newborn holds his whole destiny in his hands, that he is reluctant to unfold. He still has fear of losing memories. Alas! I wish someone would tell him that aging overpowers retention potentialities. 

Chasing one's shadows leads one nowhere; rather, facing oneself is what one ultimately is left with. Not all resistances are born to be successful. Let 'anitya' win as always—the higher truth. 

Sand is meant to be blown in the air. Even hands can't hold it for so long. Is anyone capable of not following one's own dharma? Escaping remains an option unless he realizes that he has conscience.

History reminds us every time that at later ages, mostly people are able to see the sky clearly, the same as they couldn't make it possible earlier even with the glasses.