Sharik Currimbhoy Ebrahim

He shot an arrow into the air It landed far, he knew not where It flew beyond this tiny world Into the next one  Death unfurled  Through the heart of a little girl With skin soft and white as pearls Who's dress was stained blood red As her parents looked on  Struck by dread Seeing their  little girl             lying dead.  But Why! Said the weeping mother With pain and cries like no other She looked upon the sky above And said God, where is thy love? That was my little girl! With golden locks and little curls How dare you be so unfair To my baby With the golden hair! Not knowing her girl with the golden hair Was an Archer in another world In this one her golden haired girl.  She tore the arrow from her breast And shot it in the air, her best  She shot the arrow in the air It landed far she knew not where  For it flew with such swift might it’s flight was no match for sight.  It landed in the next next life  Into a man gentle frail and slight Never known a day of spite

Narcissus knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus. When Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears. “ Why do you weep ?” the goddesses asked. “ I weep for Narcissus ,” the lake replied. " Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus ,” they said, “ for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.” “But…was Narcissus beautiful?” the lake asked. “Who better than you to know that?” the goddesses said in wonder. “ After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!” The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said: “ I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful." “I weep because, each

​ ​ Kant: “ Ahem , a Word with you please Mr. Hume In my mind your ideas loom I’m scared and filled with sorrow Will Sun will rise tomorrow? You speak of social utility  Oh don’t you see the futility.  For if tomorrow your wife no longer needs you? What’s for dinner, Hume Stew ?” Hume: “ You know you’re literally a Kant right? Must be a such a shame to live with an unfortunate name...”