The silver of the full moon humming The placid that the stars are singing– A forgotten rhythm of the blankness, That’ve born out of the beat of time, (And) the broken incomplete chime (Because) of the thoughts nameless.
Om Manipadme hum. The hollowness that I sit, in chair pose, in like an old ascetic, young in age but old in the mind is like the curtain of the room. The bidding spring breeze waltzing with it composing the game of light & dark; putting up on the easel of this moment the canvas…… Continue reading Hermit
As I lie on the age old bed drowning in darkness I feel I need to grasp a whole lot of the air. Breeze is trespassing pushing the curtain Bringing the yellowed halogened spring Evening & splashing it on the chiaroscuro wall. This is not the autumn I look for this’s ‘nother spring. As I…… Continue reading Imagination or…
Promise On sale in this eve bazaar Me A beggar looking for silence Promise I am scared of and nothing else Enroll
Night sing silence Memory digs memoirs What is left of the left Brush the hair scrambled In December wind. Sparkle