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sweet to hear? The touch of the cool creeper has hidden, the greyed sight of the yellow creeper also didn't get reared for a moment, getting burnt, not known gone where? Here is getting reared only the heat... the heat.... the heat....!
Where is that tune, where is that pollen, where is that awakening of the consciousness? Not that fragrance, not that chirping, not that acceptable, not that exhilaration, where is that 'vi (prefix denoting distinction), where that poet, where is that pleasant radient sun? Where is that body, where is that colour, where is that irony of the cupid? Not that gesture, not that feeling, not that winsome shade of the consciousness. Here is blowing only the heat... the heat.... the heat....!
The enjoyables are lying here the enjoyer has gone, the yogas are present here the yogi has gone; who is for whommoney for life or life for money?
180 :: Silent Soil
