![]() ![]() Leaving behind a mist of matchless, emollient, memories. That will someday set this little island adrift I am the driftwood that created this island.įeverishly, far removed from the world outside. ![]() Today, in this little firmament of my infirmary ![]() Of moss and plants and every sudden materialįloating at the banks in careless abandonment. Stumbling in, and breaking the swift currents Like a dry dead driftwood hiding in the creek-fork To command dark, undisturbed realms of pain. Much like the desire to rule, possess, be known Tallying death and dying in mute indignation. With sullen pain, entrenched in the middleįortified, deserted, in silent unyielding mutiny ![]() Tells off life's emissaries, refuses admissionįields of consciousness rife with fascinating fertility Words rise to the surface of disappearing painĭignity of sorrow takes pride in privation Scattering existence on the trails of forever timeĭemanding memory, whispering, "remember always." That our deepest distress won't embody the eternal Charuchandra Bhattacharya, in devoted friendship). ![]()
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