Swayed by the wind of desolation,
The moon whispered, "For the sky is my mother's gown,
The stars, a million fragments of her smile
That flicker with every passing frown,
And constellations, embroidery of her soul,
Threaded with the lines of hope she'd held
So close, and all the sorrow she'd stole.
And so, when her fragile skin frays,
Burnt to a cerulean crisp by the sun rays,
And when she descends the depths of darkness,
Just so I, the light she'd treasured all her life,
Could shine so bright, despite my starkness,
I couldn't help but wonder,
Could there possibly be anyone who'd be fonder
Of someone whose destiny is to simply wander
In lost miracles, and unseen oracles?
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Devil's Workshop
Random"But being bound by the sails of time, is staying true to oneself really a crime?" Staying true to the proverb, 'An idle mind is a devil's workshop', this book is a mere collection of random ramblings that came out of my jobless mind. This book hold...
