I wonder about origin all the time. In pits of time lies a beautiful beginning of all the poems with soft kicks and loud cries, and that beautiful smile of the poetess, usually alive. I like beginnings, but origins intrigues me. Isn’t it fascinating, how just an idea can be converted in words, and how … Continue reading Origin
I am no lover, just a silent stranger, and you attract me; your art, your mind and not this body which melts with time, into the shackles of earth, and mix in rubbles of fumbling mankind. I see you, with a ‘hi’ oscillating in my vocal cord; words of appreciation gets entangled in my tongue, which I swallow. Deep down there is a child that still fears to cross the boundary laid by uncivilized civilians.