NIGHTWALKER The moon is out there, somewhere, the drifting clouds whisper so. There is vapour in the wind not rain, not snow, it’s undecided yet… I inhale the chill, hold it, in my forehead and let the weariness condense and soak away down my bones… What year is it, which century and what rulers kill where? Am I alive or dead, long gone… This black and white night, with its darkroom intensity I have the peace not to care, anymore.. 02.08.2010 Copyright ©2010 Prithviraj Bhaskar Shankar |
thanks, rebba.. you are always so kind to me.. bless you..