It’s Being…

via Cling It’s being long, I’ve clung to my fear; the fear that arouses out of being thinking overhead. It’s being tiring; I’ve to fight with my myself to let holding or was it cling, go away. The morning sun trying to shine on the foggy path–I have taken this path many times, Many seasons…

The Whisper of Winter Gust

My both hands got dipped inside the pockets of trouser I wore– As the wind gathered momentum and became a gust one from soft mild one. My hair got scrambled, (though) it was already, making the need for combing– Which I did at that moment with my slender fingers–an unsuccessful attempt. As I passed the…

Are We Taking Care?

Originally posted on Thoughts of Words:
A The books are being stacked against the stone walls for long now; They are now feast for termites and others living–who lives by having papers as meals. The walls are marked by dots and holes–some’re taped by papers, some’re not– Creating a dotted collage on the mud floor.…

Are We Taking Care?

–a– The books are being stacked against the stone walls for long now; They are now feast for termites and others living–who lives by having papers as meals. The walls are marked by dots and holes–some’re taped by papers, some’re not– Creating a dotted collage on the mud floor. The hands that are needed to…

As The Valley Sleep That Night

She was tumbling in the bed–left to right; right to left. But, for more than once, she might had asked self– or to the vacant that was surrounding her– “where’s the sleep had gone…” I don’t know (for sure) ’cause I only saw she had been rolling in her bed– in the moonlight. (I remember)…