diurnālis

August 29, 2012

the quest, essentially.


If I find a stream
that tastes like mud and the restless feet
of naked people - if I find trees
old and wild, brooding over a shade no cunning eye has seen
and torn - if I find an unknown place,
would I find a space in me
unfilled, a bit of
mind still free?
Posted by Swadhi at 6:27 PM
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to XShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest
Labels: brain, identity, journey, life, nature, sadness, society

No comments:

Post a Comment

Newer Post Older Post Home
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Blog Archive

  • ►  2025 (3)
    • ►  July (1)
    • ►  June (2)
  • ►  2023 (1)
    • ►  January (1)
  • ►  2016 (15)
    • ►  November (1)
    • ►  October (1)
    • ►  September (1)
    • ►  August (1)
    • ►  July (1)
    • ►  June (1)
    • ►  April (8)
    • ►  February (1)
  • ►  2015 (3)
    • ►  November (2)
    • ►  October (1)
  • ►  2013 (5)
    • ►  August (1)
    • ►  June (2)
    • ►  February (1)
    • ►  January (1)
  • ▼  2012 (41)
    • ►  November (3)
    • ►  October (1)
    • ►  September (4)
    • ▼  August (6)
      • the quest, essentially.
      • sleeping duty
      • textual frustration
      • after a dream where i couldn't say no
      • fantasies of a poet
      • an august morning
    • ►  July (6)
    • ►  June (6)
    • ►  May (2)
    • ►  April (1)
    • ►  March (3)
    • ►  February (3)
    • ►  January (6)
  • ►  2011 (14)
    • ►  December (1)
    • ►  November (1)
    • ►  September (1)
    • ►  August (3)
    • ►  June (5)
    • ►  April (3)
Simple theme. Theme images by gaffera. Powered by Blogger.