In the rain soaked night, Even the scaly arms of nightmare lose their rigidity. The foams of waves Spread across the wide stretched sandscapes. Grains of night dissolve. An impregnated ocean flares up. The windmill awaits instruction. Unwelcome footprints emerge. They stab the serenity.
Craning your neck and straining your eyes You wait for dawn. The interval of leaves On every branch of your home side tree Is permeated By streaks of sun fire. They blind you. A deafening silence yearns to merge into the tranquil commotion of the day ahead. The strings of sitar cuddle up in sleep making room for wheels to stage the show. Soiled legs and sordid hands exchange an embrace. You stir up smoke while shaking hands. ...
HE is a drummer. When HE strikes the sticks on the heavenly drums, stars shed sparks off, constellations scatter their lights across this ancient universe. We call it life. HE calls it MUSIC......
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