Thursday, June 24, 2010


Churning Time's eternal wheels

Its deafening cacophony chilling my heart;

A gust of dry wind and apuff of black smoke

Emerging from my nostril beneath.

The glimmering penumbra's might,

Comes like a blessing in disguise, thought I,

But the rugged mountain slope and the dead black river

speaks volume,

Redifing the chiaroscuro.

I am,

Caught in the labyrinths of civilization,

Oblivious to the nectar-sucking bees,

A child clinging to the father's bosom.

The soil beckoning the rain-

Am I going ahead or back in time?

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