Thursday, January 17, 2013



Who reminds me of a Past
in one January dawn
It is not me...
In images i tried to fill
a million of my unheard
In quotes of down hills
i read a million alphabets
of bias,
paint drops filled the cavities
of gluttony
In scales, a soul squared
a score
A mountain watched in silence
to gain more points
on forced errors.
Not even a sand grain in river bank
to write of a fine moment...
that is past..
and who reminds my ocean
of one past from the down hill road...
It is not me..

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