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My stories

Those were the halcyon days

Those were the halcyon days purpled and seared by love when I veered towards the unknown like a wounded bird until I found you, friend, and you listened to my sighs. From the dark I came to your arms, sought shelter

For when a Man is dead

For when a man is dead the truth of him fades out in time, in space. A disappearing smoke carries his face, evaporates his dreams but for his shrivelled heart, a landmark still to show in aching lives,

Do you remember?

Do you remember, one winter night, that thin tongue-tied man who first saw the shards and suspected a break-in? And the pallid woman who smelled smoke and concluded fire? Both united in the treacherous darkness,

The winter rain falls on Boars Hill

The winter rain falls on Boars Hill. With a lucid symphony full of beat the sky had opened its vast theatre to act the heavens out. A full house - the earth glistens in diamante fulfils the sky's wet destiny

As the transient wind

As the transient wind, as the escaping smoke, when many stay content I must rise into other fateful destinies, spill myself out when the ghost of the transitory goes right through us anxious receivers,

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