[…] wilderside wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerptLet me put back the rhythm to the song of broken limbs. To arrest the speed of sun-set, for a meaningful dialogue with the verse of moon. The poison of floodlit city grazes my house. The innocence of the dark suffers. The white stillness of empty hands lifts a failure my heart lives with a death Intimately. Where the birds have gone? I chase the wings. The otherness of love, the vulnerability of darkness stays with me. The thirst of ocean is very large. Mechanical imitation of aloneness for a ripe death it is nostalgia of past history. Deep in thoughts I run for my green childhood. A strange metastasis from remote guilts. A rose upon rose piled up to form a signature mode. SATISH VERMA […]
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