How nice it could have been if God would have kept a dropbox or bin where we could post our bills or cheques our complaints and grievances our hates or praises for the one who are our own, abhor and scorn which are generally shown. We could have realised there are bills pending payment Someone working hard to feed us day and night. Favor and indulgences confered to our bereaved soul, incessantly bestowed to ease and console. We forget the friendship and unselfish lenience which makes our nights peaceful and days with diligence.
A new love every night , Up above someone might , discern the distortion in love and need , compulsion indeed. Hunger is ultimate to rate life's estimate, where ethics and shame looses their name nothing makes sense Only affliction remains ! Every night corpse of love seeks justice from God above.
Death on red flame After many days met death again walking alongwith me on the rain. I was walking alone with my thought, death was being carried on a ornated cot. Road was strewn with deep red flowers, someone told years ago they are flame of the forests Death on a red road was a metaphor but, It was somebody with a bleeding heart.