Monday, December 12, 2016

Rainy Sarmistha writes


Editing my indoor rebel
Driving slowly along the edge of the pitched road
I travel like an eccentric gypsy
I earmark the raging storm
That is peeping in behind the murky clouds
From the eastern part of my outrageous curiosity
The elusive illustration of mind
Was illuminated by the dark illusionist
On the grey dust of contemplation

The silver dew drops immersed in the magic spell of thunder storms
Performed as a blaze in the emotional aftermath of craved more
A piece of my consensus shattered like a delicate glass
Collecting one by one I conjure my own fantasy
The tunnel of my soul perceived an exit to the light
Where I saw an envelope with a key
Delighted I got the key to the door beyond life and death
A gypsy I am without regression, my journey begins where it ends

Gypsy dance. Paintings about Gypsy violinists
 Gypsy Dance -- Richard Lipps

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