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Nothing will ruin this
We told each other
Nothing, not even our true feelings
In sync, we told each other
We made no plans, no destination
As we were not arriving anywhere
Just the journey of sweet songs and fangs, we sang in tandem to each other
What will I do?
If tomorrow my world turns upside down?
What will I do?
Worry? That’s lucky people paradise
Unlucky I am, so jump on a boat, find ‘my’ paradise
Go to the bluest of seashore
Count the seashells, washed up
1,2,3,4…
Isn’t there an intrigue to peak into lives of the people who are possessed by their work? From the genesis to maturity, we want to know how they came about their gift. Were they born into it or circumstances made them? Many questions compel us when we see such a person. When they are around we are awestruck by their presence. We line up for their autographs (nowadays selfie), we dream to meet them, ask, when this spark came to them which not only light up their sky but us, mere mortals too.
Hoping that one day we will also be adored like them or even better, by them.Continue reading
The black spider walks on my green wall. Searching for the unknown, the next hunt. The steady head, the infinite legs and that ugliness, creeps in me. I see it crawling, pacing those gaps, closing in, conquering the vast green forest which lay upon it.
I get the urge to squash it, to devour it, send him to the gates of Valhalla!
To feel like God, the creator, the destroyer.
