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Arihant Verma Jul 2017
Tomorrow I may never die,
writhe in the loops of time
like catching cold endlessly
over so many lifetimes

But the place I sat,
eyes, a waterfall
of suddenly gratitude
towards existence
for its too trivial
for it to have any purpose
other than to exist.

Eyes fluttering spasms of throbs,
shedding some unknown impressions,
long held in the eye of the mind
suddenly vanishing in the air,
I was born anew in shifted time.
To know what is this poem written on visit my essay about Leh (Ladakh, India) here:
Megha Balooni Oct 2015
Life as a word, as a concept, has been very intriguing for me. The trip however, that happened a few days back, has left me with new questions while some of the previous ones that I had seem answered, for now. I am particularly not good with writing long texts, long pages of articles that might make sense when read all together at once. Generally, all of what I start off with the intention of writing about, loses its essence after the first few lines. Therefore, I am not going to drag this one and start writing that I came across, the incidences, the faces. It is more of a personal documentation as I know that these stories would be lost somewhere if not bookmarked now.
Take what you can and leave what you think needs or is felt to be expressed.
Megha Balooni Apr 2015
There’s a beauty in the path that I followed
White carpet and lavender border
The uneven terrains that I skip and trotter on
A freshness engulfs the atmosphere
I could stay in bliss and a state of wonder
The dragonflies, flickering light
A constant urge to learn and explore
The hills have called me home.

— The End —