This moment I've just visited,
When golden leaves levitate in breezes
and trees of copper and flame delight.
But just like that blessed season,
This moment I wish to leave,
That when I blink again, I see
brown leaves at the mother's feet.
And this silence and death is better
Than many of those light, golden flights.
Isn't hard ground more comforting than
cool, whimsical, ephemeral winds?
Soil shall be motherly and tender again,
It shall again be a source of life.
Where shall life and love sprout in winds?
Except in magical golden flights...?
I wrote this on July 18th, in about 5 minutes. Words just flew out of my mind. I do not want to discuss why I wrote this.
1 comment:
Dude,
loads and loads of emotions splashing out.
I am really interested in knowing the reason.
July 18th !!
not the first day u boozed or smoked!!
The day u left India .. ?? u cant go so nostalgic..!!
leaves me to believe in some sweetburns...ummm.
now get me the right premise ..
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