Right there,on the wall of lost time,sitting is a clock. Looking through the eyes of time,everything and everywhere. There isn’t solace,but a sadness that keeps getting deeper with time. If you know and look into it, you will find it hard to understand. The petrichor,the dusky smell of wooden trench, used long back to make… Continue reading The clock on the lost wall
Writing on leaves, the drops of fogsome sublime poetries,of life & lies,burning and dying,true love in the eyes. Escaping from the arms of clouds,falling to the surface of grounds,it cools the heat all around. Scattered onto the soil,it asks for an another life.a life of time, for a lifetime,nothing it says, but denies.
Whimpers in the maze of tough thoughts,A life with lenity.A thought of seeking coincidence,With wondrous epiphany. A morning that seeks night,But couldn’t.A night that seeks dawn,But couldn’t. It stays within,And asks quietly,Whether you’re,what you areor not?? When not heard,It stays where it belongs,Like a snail in its shell.