once upon a stolen time
skies swore love to the earth
in a sight where all flew past
the splendor of a sailing romance

a passion so pristine

ever gentle as morning dew
which surrenders to the first rays
of a yawning sun toddling into
the laziest hour of day's fabric

when hope glittered as stars

and as formless light of souls relieved to be
strewn into the lap of merciful
enchantress content with her creation
whose world shone inspired on its own

an era where people breathed felicity

where foamy seas bent into a restless
swell of dreamy clouds
and smiling rainbows melted into perfume
drops of silver rain

when a grand pearl was born

the child of deepest seas
a gleaming myth so pure and unreal
born in nethers of the grand ocean
a spheric orb of life itself

whom the heavens embraced

as a savior of those lost within
the fading embers of abstraction
frolicking amidst solemn tranquil stars
shiny bright on the celestial parapet

the mortals named her moon

and furnished their barren lives with
colorless spread of her golden hair
traced along the milky laugh of joy
kissing tender skins of lovers asleep

but pinched upon by shores of neglect

lay the boiling heart of a forgotten god
leaning into the envious whispers of venomous deceit
sprung out of flaming ego of the great sun
overpowered by hate for his adversary

and the grand ocean who birthed her

so he raged upon like a nebulous explosion
drying up colossal seas and rivulets alike
while mortals bore the brunt of a deity
beneath all fiery blunders of infernal damnation

they all gazed in horror

to what became of once cerulean infinite ocean
now a volatile geyser of bloodied soup
a serene cradle of life incinerated by jealousy
amidst the dying cries of mercy

laid upon the ears of great mother

who rushed to her frightened children like
an avalanche of uplifting spells
as solace from the obliviating torrents of heat
above a crumbling earth

veiled in her merciful majesty

she called upon a parliament of beasts and men
starry denizens of the shivery black sky
ghostly natives of burning forests
restless roses of ashen hearts

as so were they all summoned

"for all ye did defile
with strength i lend to thee
reduce to shadow dust
spread thy cruelty
dispel a coat of fire
upon my hallowed sea
betray the rule of stars
but so mercilessly

for 'gainst the eye of war
ye sinned with hateful fright
and shall be doomed to hell
till life's last surmise
but if there be some more
ye need to speak awhile
speak aloud thee must
for this be thy time"

and so the mighty sun bared his heart

"for if i had a choice
sin i shall again
to breathe a demon's soul
engrossed with deathly pain

as when i saw her first
the light of purest love
allure of million songs
beaming anthems of

poetry set in sight
in fountains of her sleep
amid the faintest wish
of day we two shall meet

i ran and ran across
the length of starlit skies
in search of moon again
her burnished sheeny smile

only to learn the sea
would mask her in the day
in frigid soundless depths
until i fade away

spiralled across the space
i burnt to nothingness
a billion years in wait
perished to longingness

for choice was what i had
i chose to hate the world
one that does have no heart
one that does know no love

for if i had a choice
sin i shall again
just as the ocean sinned
and bring my soul this pain"

seeking out for the shattered cascades of his mind

the great mother did reach to the floundering soul
of a sun craving for one more sight of his beloved
all so distant as a tale of treasures lost
to the perpetual labyrinth of time

"of what shall thus be named
the blush of myriad glows
beneath the noble day
before the nights of pure

let there be a spell
where sun may see the moon
chisel his heart through clouds
scroll upon his tune

a time where them two shall
be one as dew and morn
ripple across as love
through dusky silhouettes long"

sweet scents of eager hope resurfaced

followed by the serene lush of a green symphony once more
while the sun bent down to touch the topaz glint of water
his beloved emerged riding upon whistling winds from east
once more piercing the restless swell of dreamy clouds

and just as day sank below a border of horizon
two lovers soared into the dreamy sight of each other
for hues of their daring glances tinge every twilight
again with a dream to have their love fulfilled

every day until the end of time.

In the end, the little ones
scampering about peppers, vibrant
red and yellows and oranges disappearing
into tiny mouths, behind toddling grins with
Meme and Pepere beaming, a
beautiful sailboat in their minds' eye that
was fortunate enough to lose sight of
the shore long ago

First sun-warmed sand
First boots-and-socks-off beach
First ankle-deep stand in rushing water
First SPF rubbed on my face
First crocus pops up in the yard
(Delicately)

Nearby, a young father begins
to teach his toddling young
how to fish.
(Patiently)

Last high-country snowshoe
Last low-country woodstove fire
Last hot bourbon toddy
Last dreamy days of Pisces
Last longing for lost love melts away
(Finally.)

Early over the mountain
the nearly-but-not-yet worm moon
spies the confluence and I below.
(Knowingly)

Here at the place where things change,
the wild world fills me
and I devote myself once more.
(Wholly)

For one who is in love with the chase
And the glory of all things yet-to-be done,
The true rapture of Nature is in knowing
She is too Big, Wild, and Free to own.
(Like me.)

the moment that i laid eyes on you
     time simply ceased to be

the globe stopped its spinning
and the lights started dimming
     and the heathens began their fevered singing
          and i forgot just who i was

the instant that your eyes fell upon my frame
     i got thrown back into reality again
          and i crash landed feet-first into a chair

          it was fair
     we both had to stifle our giggling

you spoke smoothly
     almost orchestrally
some sort of poetic sing-song
          heavily laced with the accent of the place that i hope to someday find you

               "chicago, chicago, that toddling town..."

i hope i find you soon
     wearing that same sleepy looking smile
     and your news-boy cap
     and that shoulder strap sack that i'd like to think you kept stuffed to the brim with college-rulled ball-point ballet

but that was years ago
     now there's more than just arrhythmias and murmurs and excited flesh between our heavy chests
now there's lines drawn between our toes

lines scratched into the sands of time with the force of lightning's strike
          
          worry lines
          telephone lines
          state lines
               lines that furrow across the face of the map

     things tend to fade out like that
the way the last track on your favorite record fades slowly to the sound of a skipping needle
          
i'm still unsure if i imagined you into existence
     or if you only existed in my imagination
either way
          i wish you'd have stayed a while longer

Sunday - the weekend's tombstone,
burying the worst of last week.
The silent ringing of church bells,
best suit coffined in my wardrobe.

I see proud parents pushing prams,
grandads toddling after toddlers,
but no young couples promenade,
as we did when teenagers.

Some sought their compensation
in sensational Sunday press.
It's surely generational.
We were schooled for Sunday rest.

toddling, stiff-hipped
thoughtfully sniffs each stalk of ****
as if savoring
dog poetry

what do you say in a traditional wedding toast?
I’m not a traditionalist
I’m a poet
I’m not too good at structured, sentimental texts
i speak in chopped verses so
here’s my non-traditional, non-structured, sentimental wedding toast
in verse

my memories
flash and fade quickly like lights flicker on and off
i'm toddling around the house right behind you
where are you going?
can i come too?

i'm barefoot in the driveway washing your car
you took pictures, no doubt laughing at the streaks we left on the windows because, shortness

i'm sitting on the bus rifling through your purse like the nosy little kid I am
you're chaperoning one of my school field trips
one of the aids asks if you're my mother
you chuckle and say "nope, i'm her sister"
i roll my eyes because isn't it obvious we're sisters?
okay, it wasn't obvious we're sisters

i'm bouncing down the hallway to your room
stopping suddenly at the sight of packing boxes
college
you're leaving me
"we'll be okay" you said
i believed you even though i could have sworn
i was losing my sister to the big city for good
we wrote letters
we skyped
we emailed
and i called you
so many times
we were okay

fifth grade, you bring a guy home
but not just any guy
i think we all knew this one was different
i saw it in your eyes
i was only 11 but i knew what love looked like

b, you always told me i was the wind beneath your wings
you can't break the bond of sisterhood
you just can't
but maybe the bonds will loosen
i thank you for the memories
they were fantastic and i'm looking forward to seeing what the future has in store for us
i'm thinking
babies would be nice
In time...

so my dear sister,
tell me how married life is
i hope this night was everything you always dreamed of

nick, you've got to be
the happiest guy in the world right now

i'm only 16 but i know what love looks like
it looks like his gaze on her glowing beauty
it looks like a promise of forevers proclaimed in front of loved ones
it looks like my sister
finding her other half
and my brother in law
finding his.

-rgp

refrain,
let it go
solitude goes foreseen
lost winds of change
adaptation resolves
horizons thundering
hunger encroaching
limitations unleashed

yet, sun shines bright
farmers toils sweat
feeding the fed
thirst  toddling in
sun's perpendicular
in the near-by latitude
oceans over flow !!

refrain !

I keep telling myself our love is like
a lake in winter; cold to the touch but
beneath the ice is dormant life
waiting to reawaken

And on its surface are both ballerina
figure skaters poised with perfection and
toddling children  wearing scrapes like
first place medals

Sometimes the surface cracks and out
pours freezing entrails and watery
remembrance - but now is no time for
nostalgia. The lake scabs over with
persistent breaths from the father-wind
and winter's secrets are secured

Some things are best left forgotten
until the season is right

But I know our spring will soon come
melting away the frozen crust and turning
skaters into swimmers as the Divine Sun
breathes life into our slumbering hearts

This is a re-post of "All Change at Zima Junction."  This morning I turned in my keys after some forty years of herding cattle (metaphorically), seventeen of them with this institution.  I am unemployed for the first time since I was five or so and was set to toddling out to the chicken yard every evening to gather the eggs in an old Easter basket.  My mother said that the rooster often chased me and made me cry, but I don’t remember that.

And now - what adventure does Aslan have next for me?

The first book I bought upon returning home from Viet-Nam was the Penguin Modern European Poets paperback edition of Yevtushenko: Selected Poems.  That 75-cent paperback from an airport bookstall in San Francisco is beside me on the desk as I write.

                                     All Change at Zima Junction

                            For Yevgeny Yevtushenko, 1932-2017

Everyone changes trains at Zima Junction
Changes lives; nineteen becomes twenty-one
With hardly a pause for twenty and then
Everyone asks you questions you can’t answer

And then they say you’ve changed, and ignore you
The small-town brief-case politician still
Enthroned as if he were a committee -
He asks you what you are doing back here

And then you go away, on a different train:
Everyone changes trains at Zima Junction

                           “I went, and I am still going.”1

1Yevtushenko: Selected Poems. Penguin,1962

I am eager to express
This is not a playground,
nor a hawking station
adrift in a saline breeze.
I am not surprised at this reaction
personal pride foils this wanton randomness
toddling home,
I feel surrounded by poetry books
and before long I lie to myself
inventing that I have endless possibilities

There's an elegance
to the math

but

it's too complicated for
us to understand much less
make a career of writing
ring looped code
or father toddling

equations.

At best, we fancy Newtonian
relationships,

common sense ones that any 17
century young Romanticist
would Realize

The faster we accelerate into Love the greater
the Force of our relationship
and the Mass of our egos multiply the effect

A Love in motion stays in motion

If only we live in vacuums

our fairy tale would never end
and the forever after is locked,
safe behind Castle doors

But our stories are more like Grimm Tales

Impulse
forces of liberated Egos
change the trajectory
of our real

love.

Random white cue *****
bounce us into a side pocket.

And who's to know?

Are the cul-de-sacs
any worse than
landing in an odd corner,
bunched in with only
a stripped
or solid ball?

At least we didn't scratch
against some misshapen Black
eight

Master of inaction complete with heightened self inventory, daily beatings, and advanced proclivity.

Machine boots stuck in the mud and walking slowly. Tough trudged - trotting wounds toddling septicity and self inflicted brain damage with battery acid.

Living roach life - keep self image commensurate with meeting low expectations consistently.

Gradually melted down. That which overflows cools outside the cast. A shrunken face with blunt features reveals a repulsive bulk of damaged mass when the light hits it just right.

Cats stuck to window sills as languid as the rolling hills and craggy like the rocky tors
sheep sleeping underneath a portcullis of a sky
as steel grey clouds disguised as prison bars soothe
them gently with the Lakeland lullaby

I saw no Viking
but I did see hikers by the score
up the scree
scrambling up the tor

being me,
I wondered
what you doing that for?

Boats across the lake
too much
Kendal mint cake
and your jaws ache
take the Lilliputian train
we're toddlers
toddling off again

Such fun.

Since we were toddlers
We've had the move;
Something like a siddle,
The sway of balance
On the right/left shift.
But a siddle's for a snake,
A wiggle's for a worm,
And my dog waggles
When I return.

We stop, we wait,
Frozen, and confused;
We're a bit ticked-off
We can't pull this off
In a dance of decisive moves.

We've seen our share
Of waddling sops
Leave sidedoors
On Sunday mornings.
That's not what we do.

I've stopped a tot
From toddling,
Yet now I can't help you.

It's not a reel, a jig or clog,
It's like a line-dance of two frogs.
Then I hear Yeats' fiddler,
And I commence to be a widdler.
When you meet your doppel-widdler,
Don't look,
Don't ask,
Don't take long,
Just widdle past
To the fiddler's song.

What was that about ironic?


(sonnet #MMMMDCXLII)


They swore I should be published when my frail
Attempts proved that my alphabet was thence
Down pat, a couple verbs and nouns from whence
I made a twisted bit of nonsense, pale
And certain notes that I owned more than bail
For their now wasted cries of sheer pretense,
Nor would they quiet down 'til their defense
Was trounced when I could speak and **** the tale.
Yes.  Now that I trip off much less obscure
Lines, even sentences which march straight to
The point, I've lost my following as twere.
Come, did they like the early babble?  Few
Can make it past the toddling stage, whence fer
The grand achievement, I'm alone.  Boohoo.


(sonnet #MMMMDCXLIII)


Please don't say either that I was from hence
Givn this quite fair, though transient gift's detail
To hone its more exquisite sense in pale
Excuse for being alone, nor that twas thence
Deemed fit cuz twould be yet destroyed (whose sense
Of worth was fragile in sheer truth's betrayl),
But grant me something more, as if for bail,
And say that love will pay for my intents.
Walk through the library amassed as twere;
Yea, listen as my spirit filters through
The tapestry of lines, until in poor
Reply its voice half alters subtly too.
Did I leave innocence behind?  Twas your
Fault who taught me what life is:  loving you.

06Mar15e,f

the higher my age climbs
the more i feel like that little kid again
staring into the mirror, wearing their
parents’ clothes;
a first attempt at performance,
roleplay.

those two numbers seem oversized,
daunting and ill-fitting
too grown for my
tiny body, tiny heart, tiny brain,
tiny ability, tiny understanding,
tiny sense of self.

i cannot fill the sleeves of my father’s jacket
i cannot stand confidently in my mother’s heels
i’ve barely transcended toddling,
and my hollow translucent arms are too short to
reach the shelves of Adulthood.

(i’m not a daughter or a son
i’m a child.)

put a little faith in life
put a little faith in all
the forces that be

obviously
something cares about us
something thinks we deserve
to keep toddling forward

so if you think you've done
something to make these
forces turn against us:

I think you should reconsider
just how long the ****-up we
call human history really is

when i reach you,
i want it to look like the day i left. gray
skies, teasing winds, the ocean roaring and
rushing louder and faster than i've ever seen.
on the boardwalk, i want to hear the
musicians play, but i'll stand by one
in particular--an old man playing an erhu
to background music emitting from a cheap speaker,
sounding like the karaoke songs my
mom would always sing along to. i hated them then, but
i'd give anything to have that back now.

when i reach you, i want you
to listen to me as i describe
how i feel when i see a mother leading her
toddling child by the hand while her husband
looks for a place to sit on the beach. i
won't be able to explain it, but i'll
cry and try my
best to express that
it's love,
it's always been love,
it always will be love,
and this family of strangers is
ruining me and
sustaining me and
they'll never be the wiser.

love is an action.
love is an action.

i want to love you.
i want to love you.

when i reach you, i want you to know
i'm reaching for you, that this isn't
just happenstance, or where everyone ought to go, but
i did it for you.
i took off all my clothes. i killed all my lovers.
i did it to be close to you,
but you feel so far away.
i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry.
you have to tell me to stop reaching.

The Journey winds down the lonely Road
Flanked on the sides by Spirits
Recognizing the faces nearest
They stuff my backpack, add to my Load
In their countenance is where their fear is

Starting out, weak dumb and small
With no mind for allegory
See the winding Road before me
In this beginning, I have to crawl
In this humble beginning, I begin to see

Standing now on my own two feet
Toddling down the road
Now I'm in exploring mode
Hoping for someone nice to meet
Hoping for a special Someone nice to know

Getting stronger, day-by-day
Trying to conceive the end of it all
Hoping my missteps don't make me fall
Wondering what Price I'll pay
Lost deep in introspective thought; my mind's enthralled

Now I pause along my path
Knowing I'd have to find some meat
Seeking this one special treat
Sneak away to divert His wrath
I look eagerly for a baker to entreat

The glowing Angels guard the sacred Ground
Forcing me to cut short my break
Showing, not telling, my mind to stay
A breathless whisper without a sound
That breathless whisper said all they needed to say

Now strong and tall and unperturbed
I wonder what lies beneath
The Road spans o'er what's underneath
I let my mind wander, undisturbed
And wonder about the secret hidden heath

Wiser now but youthful still
Talk and research of subjects profound
None of which fail to confound
Waiting patiently, I walk with Time to ****
While words of thoughts buzz lazily around

No longer Young but I am not old
My appetite for destruction, curbed
My longing now for just a Word
The One that can be forever untold
But only Once does It need to be heard

I am old now and growing weary
I see now the end of the Road before me
Winding up to those Benevolent Three
As I draw closer, my eyes with old age, bleary
I heard them say 'I love you dearly'
And slipped into Their Grace.

Gates imagined in times

past
open here and we pause

is this the life well spent,
or the life un-examined?

Are we Faustian Fellows or mere mortals
dreaming
rockstar vibes on the boulevard

select/apply
brakes. (witness, we saw it coming)

What good can come from this?
Is
here some secret place?
What keeps its secret here?

he emerges rather as a master syncretist of widely divergent materials and as a devout theopantist

From <https://muse.jhu.edu/book/37533>

Artistic Intelligen-seers build cumputorionic
putahs
for the pew-trade-ification
easy as pi t' lie about knowing
as goatphorgoneconclusions, leading
sheepish men astray

afar from the madding crowd
screaming out loud
for christ's sake (really. What's that mean?)

Christmas is christ's cause, I would think,
given proper cause determining algorythms at some time after my

toddling twos expecting, child-like
survivability
equivalent -- equal in balance factor
twixt why and how and try and
umph

needed on the uphill side of every vibe.

Has Christ mass more meaning than
anointed (oiled-to shine-or-burn, per hap)
message/medium,
a class of good
news, a whole bunch of new good
ideas for things,
witty inventions with the best of intentions,
Christmas Time!
Peace,
on earth, good will to
ward men,
the idea of god as truth life and the path to next; and man, wombed and un, recon-

conciliated, with no con-sessions to bogus-science but to learn

to use the food we eat. learn
to chew our mushrooms with a touch of lemon,
lemon tree, so pretty but impossible to eat,

Ah, why,
ya jus'asker what she knows,
she's sure to show you
wisdom wisps, entangled in your hair…

take a taste,

now, hear this, peace, I give, I loose
as
oil on the water, but with the best imaginable
outcome

not good as men measure;
good as you measure good,
good ideas you make do
good, sometime

thereafter your arrival as the hero in your story.

things that i like: you
things that i don't like: you
strange, isn't it?

i've been a war of head vs. heart
since i was just a baby
i'd squeeze the kitten too tight
knowing that claws were coming,
but that moment of tenderness
was worth the wounds

now i'm no longer toddling,
but not much else has changed
i'm still holding onto things too tightly
knowing that at any moment
i'm due for injury

Brittle stars hum, cackling underfoot,
Piles of mud and brick colored petals,
Gracing the ground in billows,
I watch it rain over her worn shoes.

A singing giggle escapes, and she runs,
Toddling toward a rusty pile of leaves,
Sliding under shady covers,
Where white sunshine used to greet me.

The leaves I see here are old,
They crack and break, dusty squares,
Of dead stars, they shot and no longer,
Shine. Not like her.

Her eyes still flash at unfamiliar things,
Everything is new, and it is music,
To her developing mind, it sings.
And I know this season doesn’t,
But who said moods had to match,

The breeze dances in, weaving through,
I watch it painting her tiny cheeks pink,
A new color, ringed by rustic browns,
And she smiles, with approaching teeth.

One

The strands of hair you shed
Is my childhood

Love, now, is
Little feet that search each strand,
Toddling.

Mother’s name is written
In every filament
Of your grayed hair

Where were you
In the days when hair
Used to be worn in two plaits?

Two

One night,
Thinking I might get cold
You gave me a blanket

It was given you
By your mother
When you felt cold

This morning,
Daughter sleeps, covered by it

Which sunshine took away our chill?

FOLDER: CUNTISM
RelentlessRelentless ******* *******

excuses of crap wrapped in more *******

Your false concern sets me up for the fall

holier than thou **** stains on your chin

keep your twisted mind away from me

you stupid ******* crud.

you don't make me well

Whose heart  asphyxiated and bled

whose mind twisted for comfort instead?

sick fool take your putrid ****

I pass

Im so full I'm aching

Was burtsing with pain for ages

this chill came from the bitter pill

I've chosen

the hostage in these pages

numb well past the pain inflicted

by a toddling tyrant

gone deep Inside myself.

Not coming out till your gone

it is done.

Strained,

I'm through

leave my bits to the side,

I'll pick them up later.

Larger than spiral galaxies,
Able to comprehend that which is smaller than atoms,
You made us,
But babes,
We have yet to understand,
The works we will make,
For you,
And the words we will sing,
Our infant dancing,
Though beautiful in all its tumbling emotion,
Is nothing compared,
To the whirling,
Of our later years,
A day approaches,
When we will grow,
In all directions,
And remember with fondness,
The days before we could fly,
When walking
Upon the dust of one planet,
Was our only option,
And our flimsy wrappings,
Of main importance
We will laugh,
At our present preoccupations,
With silk or cotton,
3 or 5 inches,
Purple or go ****,
Yet you still give us what we wish,
Like a Father to his toddling child,
Drooling over a sweet.

Toddling in green grass barefoot before a yellow house
           blink
First day of school
            blink
First boyfriend
            blink
Second boyfriend
             blink
Third boyfriend that lasted five years
             blink
First date, images flow, this is the one
              blink
Wedding dress, him at the alter
               blink
Newborn hands and newborn cries
               blink
Second child, just as miraculous
               blink
Walking out, no love there
               blink  
It all changes in a

                             *blink

Oh, poor lonely girl
You spent your years dreaming
and evaporated all your friends away
You saw the others dancing like puppets
with God yanking the strings
Your world was in your head, not on your feet
No one could see inside your benign imagination
Held your breath in the presence of others
Stood up straight to avoid being disagreeable
Cried the fool to silence the demons
Wrote yourself out of other peoples futures with a happy, shiny ending
Dived underwater to be a mermaid while others blew bubble in shallow rock pools.
You drove nails through your ankles and wrists to save others from yourself
Poor lonesome, lost, artless child
perpetually pendulating
toddling and falling
into the washing machines on spin cycle that is other peoples lives.
They traumatize you like ominous spinning tops.

Lost, lovely child
You have imagined a storm, when it is all just tepid, still, innocent water.
Nonetheless, you continue to drown.

I was brought into this world by that not of my own choosing.
I was given a face and a name I cannot come to terms with.
I was raised by beings I've had too little time to observe and thus, do not understand them.
I was garbed in itchy fabrics that play too much of an important role in this society.
I was raised up and told to go forward on these stilts I can hardly maneuver-toddling as I go.
I was built from links of mineral, calcium phosphate, and collagen which was fitted with a skin prison,
then drowned in blood and excess organs
and told to live.
I was born to buy and sell and work and love
and to force offspring into these bone brackets and tell them
to do what I have done- for the sake of what?
After many years I cannot work the stilts
or understand my name
and the pollution they injest so heartily does not agree with my lungs
nor the gravity that keeps them barely grounded
keeps me barely able to lift a finger from it.
It seems they all learn to live in their own way
and do and don't with purpose
and exist as they should
carrying on like their parents-
but I watch from the diagonal,
evermore obstructed from their ways.
too little time
yes too little time I've had to study-
I wasn't ready when I was brought here
and by all that is orphic I was brought by mistake.

I'm a stranger in human skin
an alien in a person's world
a broken cog mixed in with upside-down and backwards instructions
devastatingly incompatible with all my fuzzy eyes can see.

I wasn't meant to be here
and I didn't come by choice.
I was forced in
and I must force my way out.

●●●
murmuring sound of perineal river
gentle move of moving rudder
toddling pace of small dinghy
faded shadow like a stringy

our lives just a river streams
like flow of wonderful dreams
seems looking over memory
every moment of each story

everyone is life's enslave
falling rising like a wave
surrounded with dark black cloud
crackling lights roaring aloud

amazingly got escape
from the strange vertex
ocean of life seems auxiliary
always feels like a mystery
●●●
© deovrat "अयन" 15.05.2021