As a very young child, I would try to run and chase the clouds, trying to win in vain against it. My motley of friends and I would run up towards a nearby empty field which had an abandoned flour mill, and conjure our stories about that mill, the ghosts that haunted.We would roll, laugh, push each other, till it would be evening and our mom's would come looking for us...so many many nights and days later, I still want to relish that spirit which I had as a child.We may grow old, but there are some memories which have the magical power of taking us back to the time of innocence...



Thursday, February 18, 2016


Soar


Take out those wings
and dust off the rust
Let loose the sneers
 Fly, fly, fly high!


Look at the memories
Pain, joy, happiness
 Passion, power, fulfilment
Fly, fly, fly high!


Look at the fading beauty
Weakening pride, meaningless smiles
Intoxicating ego, sore love
Fly, fly, fly high!

Look at the milestones
Muted voice,broken heart
Dark hands, mysterious shadows
Fly, fly, fly high!



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