In this self-indulged
semblance on silence,
i sit with furrowed brows
as this annoyance smokes in
and spills out astute luminescence
on a serene solitude
of subconscious symphony.
Inference has a way in,
Neither can I
nor can this time
find a way out.
We stare at each other
And gaze upon
The melody of distant future.
Life has its way of playing
With this innocence
Where also lies a vagabond rogue
Unaware, unhindered as ever.
I wonder as always
With a semblance on this silence
Awaiting for a ray
Of divine cognizance.
- Shashank.K.D (24-01-2010)
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