I do n’t want remember what I wanted to talk here.Just got confused too bit. In between, things happened. The problem with my life is I have to un wrinkle the folds when they appear in between my thoughts, my perception.
In the exterior, it means suffering in mind, confronting in body and immense pain as if , there are no words I can bring in to say it, दिल से रे
I have struggled all my life reaching that perception which I breathe and it disappears. Skies open, earth closes. In between, I sit and crave braving those all oddities in between.That closure , those gaps, that breath that I hold back. Then it holds me back.
My struggle with myself, with my own. My own make and my own world. My solitude and my tribute to that solitude.
I mean,what is there in things,with things, the talks, the talked fews?
Well! No clue.