Thursday, 12 April 2012


No, I do not travel in the web page again,
It is painful to search the unidentified object
That once came in my heart, and then went out
With a violent storm in my eyes with tears,
That time I turned into age to fifteen, with desires of love,
Sweetened with mingled zeal, and now it is gone.

-“Do you wait for me?” Once she said.

-“I can wait for life.” I replied.

-“Hmm..And then I have to think more on my life.” She said.

-“Why is it so, dear?” I said.

-“I fear about me. I have robbed myself.” She replied.

-“What is that? Web page gives me illusion. 
Robbing is a kind of pensive term 
To quantify life and expectations” I said.

-“Web page has uploaded histories. And I forget it.
I have sacrificed, and now I want to me mine.”
She replied.

And then she goes out of my sight,
Two symptoms of longing and buoyancy of life,
I do not understand her, she perhaps finds alternative
Shelter, I do not contact, it does not smell importance
In her words, and I am in inhabitation in her words only,
Those turn into faded colors,
Never to breath in cheerful terms,
And the last words she has posted on my web page,

“Please be happy with your thinking like a saint, being
Checked in your life’s pattern, that is yours own. 
No haunting for me, dear.”

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