g's world

It was one lovely time, the time when sunshine caressed my face with a friendly ray and dried leaves played longingly under my feet. I had a smile which spread forever, I had a smile deep rooted within my heart, the warmth and hope that prolonged from within the organ beneath my ribs. That time when I had a pair of little and soft hands to hold on to me tight, finges entwined into one another. That lovely bud of rose which bloomed hearing the miner's lost songs of "the hanging tree" and the healer's hands crushing leaves to let into the mouth of the ill and striken. The hybrid rose which strikes terror into my being, haunts my sleep and taunts with the unstricken arrow. That silver splay of hope which spread from the hover craft, that pearly bane which spread onto the innocent child's hands, that which used to spread hope of bread and medicine in the arena, that which contained the little bundle of distress, licked my body wi

The winds howled like the midnight street dogs While the moist air caressed my cheeks,  It cooled my brow, brought me back to the then.  Lying on the stony pillow, I was, My balcony wide open, lending my privacy to anyone passing by,  Did I at the least care, ironically not.  Back from a long lost reality, I was, The time when I had found innocence in every child’s smile, Truth in every friend’s word, A blend of passion and talent in every artist’s hand, Bountiful faith in every theist’s eyes, There were green, brown and the transparent,  Boundless and not possessed they were, The unclaimed lands of a generous king.  They replenished and were so.  It loomed on me, they barely exist, And in the turbulent present, They dissolved like snow under sun, The chill lasting longer in memory. Rather there is, brimming coffers behind the artist’s success, Greed and uncouth desire in many theists’ eyes, The ghosts of innocence in the child’s unmet smile, The green saw

Feeling the fresh brown dust on my feet, listening to the screeches of the tawny owl, and the rustling noise from the lonely bats' wings, seeing the yellow leaves succeeding one another, looking at the blue, blue sky with rare snowy clouds, and diamond like stars twinkling in the moonless sky. breezy winds smashing onto my face, and rustling my greasy black hair. The smell of moist mud and the green crickets, though my nostrils, filling into my lungs, my breath long and heavy, I take into me, also with the fragrance of the evening flowers.  sensing the falling waters nearby, sensing the freshness of the fall through my skin, listening, observing around me the serenity of the bounty, the abundance of whom they call the almighty, feeling, drenching and seeing the denseness around, sighting the verity within resembling the outside. I sit there in my dreams, unassuming, I sit there for a long time without my intervening thoughts, I sit there blank as a white she