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Again in this world
many citadels been made
where I could put my feet,
however ground is always oblivion
the sweet scent of Your effervescence
keep arriving,
filling me,
I am hindered
by my senses
yet the method
does not intoxicates,
and as I think of these kriyas
how You wake up, eat, sleep and slumber
I wish You would have known
how I wished to belong,
not to be neglected,
to be loved.

Am I being selfish?


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I hear shriveling words

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some grass is burnt
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First published on Literary journal.

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