The passionate me and my folly


The gamble that glorifies the time;
and the passion felt then by the night;
the night sleeps but sleeplessly stands the mind;
odour, feel, sight, a strange feeling that burns,
brings the flares, glare, heat – a courage to fight thy.

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A moment of peace –in pieces
and a crowd of hesitated thoughts,
spread throughout the yard -in our existence.

Quailing in disdain, at a distance,
at me, away from me, seeks answers
–my passionate me:
“how time has flown?”
“how tides that were so small pushed you away?”
“Will You be able to stand again?”

Then, smiles a questionable smile,
asking same questions, is the time.


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