It was a beautiful day after the storm. Fever was rising in branches. Severed moons on road started listening to explosive-laden snow. I went for the jugular. Why poisoned goats were set free for the cougars? Existence was a positive
Fathers are trees whose roots are so deep and strong that we cling to them for ever Eventually we get lost into them that gives a different pleasure Now when my father has gone far away from me desire of
Twisted roots that pattern themselves in soil, are like hidden truths that always come to light. Slowly taking root in darkness, creeping ….growing towards the light. The web of deception and flowers of thorns that grow, destroy the trust of
You know I do not hope any intermission, between life and death. My path goes nowhere. A hiatus between the mirrors has questions. From childhood I was always floating between the meanings of lessons unknown. I longed for straight humilities.
Every homecoming is a nomad’s offerings for forgiveness, A silent prayer, An apology for neglecting the roots, that have borne him. Two lovely yet lonely souls, leaning on each other Still, on their own worlds, Slowly move around and do