drifting off of a familiar touch,

eyes; ablaze, volcanic, and as still as a lake in a chilly winter morning,

credence, an atheist building gods for sustaining the hope,

lovers melting into sadness, shedding skins, bleeding without stains,

exasperation, to be or not to be, or just camouflage,

I understand!

sinking alone in my comfortable bed, being engulfed leaving no trace of flesh behind,

the heartbreak of the magpie robin on being called bad luck when spotted alone,

all the unreasonable wishes hanging on the constellations, I have few on the Orion,

the lost warrior, whose weapon was just a shield,

bags beneath your eyes, not just sleep deprived but an enormous repertoire of memories,

I understand,

having no home, and shelter at taverns,

writers' block,



skipping a heartbeat, or

having no will to live,

But, my darling, LIVE.

“Because this is a weird world with endless possibilities and this makes us all free”.

Researcher. Birder. Weaving stories from Observations.

Researcher. Birder. Weaving stories from Observations.