Wednesday, 27 July 2011
The kite floats —just severed—
In rhythm of kissing ends,
Of promises and dejections,
Of remembrances and forgetting,
Of reliance and betrayal,
Of pleasures and angst,
Beneath dark eyes of monsoon clouds.
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
I walk free. Yes, after quitting the job that I could neither enjoy being into nor could it enjoy being nurtured within dispassionate bed of thoughts of someone utterly oblivious to the needs and deeds it honours. I make it memorable in tearing of all cords of relationship. And, I walk free following narrow lane piercing straight through an overhung fortune of unemployment. In spree of pouring sense of liberty I had another journey of my own tonight in promising a faint dawn of hunger sooner.
Deep into winter the evening is slowly draping herself in a dark bluish veil. A soft moon would soon emerge. A few stars would peep through mists and twinkle. Nippy breeze binged on stinging with intense sullenness while faint tunes of Christmas chimes roamed in scrawny alleys of buried civilization of a proud city.
I walk on to embrace a new year—a wide new year of age-old hunger that I have so passionately desired for. A new horizon of freedom stealthily waits behind the faded texture of a nomadic life.
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