Decrypting latent disciplines

As my skin glistens under the blazing charismaOf the sun,The warmth pervading my skin,Melting the frozen carapace around the sensesStoking them to rise from a deep slumberI struggle to severe my hypnotic lashesOnly to be blinded by the glowing sunWho apparently mocks at meLike it does at a million others, under its shadeWho grapple withContinue reading “Decrypting latent disciplines”

The Reply

Rabindranath Tagore in Geetanjali wrote it as an invocation to God“Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not!I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.It may not find a place in thy garland,But honour it with a touch of pain from thy handAnd pluck it.I fear lest the day end before IContinue reading “The Reply”

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