My Lord, I expect of you to, like the Nile, keep cool all through this episode of reading, and rage within yourself lest your tides should unworthily prove futile on me. By now I expect I have raised your spirits enough to commence this noble piece of writing that intends no conditional harm. My kind …
Does God exist? This question dwells in the mind of all beings resting here on planet earth but is not regarded as a question. Maybe the most obvious assumptions aren’t questions? (The real question will be dealt with towards the end but you need to read it whole to appreciate it.) Tryna objectify Science. What’s …
The kind in me is a lot busy in Himself and doesn’t seek to owe me an obligation. I ridicule myself whenever I seek His permission. I’m dependent on Him for my own practices like the labyrinth. And yet I fight for impunity. No one knows this treasure. It lies buried. The grave is fake. …
I talk of a song, A song that echoes itself to flight, And makes me ponder over its plight. This song got no place on the space of my lips As the merry tune confined itself to its own waters, Satiated with the darkness of the light. The night that clothes the world puts me …
And he taught me maturity. I was pseudo-mature. I was the first girl in my school to declare that I would not ever miss my childhood, and many took it in with a chill pill. And now I know how kind they had been to me. When I told Mum the same, I was duped …
A classical poem I composed to voice the silent empty wall of my sober messy room. Speak Cruelty did, “ ‘Hunger!’, it dragged thee into the plentiful sea of thy wreath Hath the bolts been hurl’d like a sword drawn upon a sheath? Nay, shall hanger or strife confer upon Mercy A note as that …
