In many shapes and sizes, and sometimes in different colours, too.
It metamorphoses it seems, to suit every whim and mood.
What beautiful names they give it, delusions, hallucinations and at times, thoughts.
I would just as well call you the dream, the dream that is always close to my heart.
Like phoenix that arises from ashes, from total destruction, into a new being.
Like the last spark of embers lying amidst ashes of a colossal wreck.
Still burning with rage, even after the energy in it seems to be doused.
I would just as well call you the dream, the dream that is always close to my heart.
Me, me!!!
- Sepiamniac
- Madras, TAMIL NADU, India
- Not an outdoor person.. prefer to get buried beneath books, music and movies... has these strange philosophies about life that might puzzle you. At the same time, likes to live life. Loves simple people, especially those who veil their formidable knowledge behind humility (The poems here don't reflect my mind or anyone else's. Maybe, just a patch of what various people go through.)
No comments:
Post a Comment