My feet lead me to the ebb
Of one silent, somber night
The crunch of trampled foliage, thus,
Reciprocated in my delight
Lilacs whispered, lyres sang
To the music that with me shivered
Huddling stars that cuddled darkness
Silent as my soul delivered
Out there somewhere I heard you shout,
“Qui vive!, Qui vive!, friend or foe?”
“A mere traveler”, I retorted,
“Friendly when the pillars blow”
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- suraj sharma
- my mind, therefore, becomes this outstretched field of immeasurable serenity, which, although illuminated at angles awkward and unfamiliar to my eyes - is neither dark nor twilit. The strange lighting turns the vacuous foreplay of shadows chasing shadows into an euphoric, almost utopian feeling which is held in suspension as long as this configuration of appearances beckons the restlessness of reason ever forward into the uncharted hinterlands of imagination while at the same time compelling me to bless the lighting director.
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