It’s the corner for life’s
un-shapable spaces
when another layer flows
and leaves its traces.
It’s the amalgam that forms
when surrender meets rebellion
white turns into red,
red into vermillion.
A burial ground for frustrations and defeat
A whorehouse, where rehab escapees retreat
And for the poisoned, tainted as they go
It is the river Ganges, where blue bodies flow.
For those with open
and suspended hearts,
it’s the miracle garden where
regeneration starts.
Love’s first glance
in a purple oasis,
desire’s first stop
an empty week’s catharsis.
~Proma
Comments
for reading, as well as for your encouragement.