Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Haze

In that ashen pallor of landscape,
wearing
not the beauteous wintery-white
but the toxic smokey shroud;
beneath that grey blanket,
that thick, hazy and gloomy spread;
midst that smothered afterglow of twilight,
we experience the quavers of doom.
Is it too late?
We shiver.



Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt

Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.