Regeneration...a conversation...

'Frances...
Your mom's photo...
i placed it at the parlour...
And...
i see it at the stairs...
On the wall...
i am confused...
You took it there?'
Isabella asked
Confusion writ on her childish face...
In her white long skirt
And pink bordered dress
She appeared like a doll...

'si...'
Francesco replied...
Working out something on paper...
Revising his own writeup...

'purche?'
Isabella was confused...

'Dear...'
Francesco looked up...
Smiling...
'why don't you sit
For a while...
And let me clarify...'
Francesco smiled again...

'i got works Frances...'
'i know...
You got works...
But certain things are even greater
Than works...
Like knowing...
Knowing is believing...
Knowing is Faith...
Knowing is a journey so good...
Like knowing Death
Is a staircase...
A regeneration...
A restart...
A reboot...

Mother passed away...
Ten years...
Almost...
A decade...
But i remember it was her journey
Beginning...
Her rebooting...
Hence she is at the stairs...
Climbing...
And more properly placed...
Than at a parlour...
A showcase...'
Francesco clarified...
And looked at his Isabel...
White and pink...

A girl...
A child...

Frances started again...
A recitation...
Solemn...

'The person is divine...unshaped
He is outside and inside...unborn
Without breath,without mind,pure,
Higher than the highest imperishable...'

'Gita?'
Isabella asked...smiling...
'no...For a change...
Dear...
From Upanisads...
All the same...
The Mundaka one...
All the same...
You can call it a song...
A rhythm divine...
The conservation of mass theory...
A Tagore...
A Wordsworth...
An Einstein...
A Copernicus...
A Newton...
Anyone's work...
For divinity is everywhere...
Upanisads are everywhere too...dear...
So also Gita...
On leaves on grass...
On petals...
On you...
On me...
On Abramo...
Donya...
Cicero...
At the pigeon pooped alley
Beside Tabachchi lotto store...'
Francesco smiled...

Isabella...
Smiled back...
'in my works...too?'

'assolutamente!'