In the rhythm of rain drops, lightning and these unaccustomed quakes,
in the abyss of rationality and senility my unknown voyages fade.
Reconciling with the very facts I once denied,
that face, those eyes , that voice still rises from the nostalgic ashes that I once swore to hide.
The sky roaring at the blasphemy of these soaring hills,
flamboyant bolts of light fall from the skies tabooed with flavours of righteous kills.
These flabbergasted eyes set on the violent flashes in the air,
the sun obliquely slips out and gives them the thousand-yard-soul-piercing stare.
The darkness retreats,
the seven colours are at the door raring to speak.
The birds chirp in their clichéd beats
Those flashes and memories are ushered back with their heads hung low, their cruel intentions still incomplete…
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