Jan 1, 2013 | Poetry, Volume-10 Number-01 (Indian)
Eluded I am Walking in a mist, Yearning for the nectar, In her empty fist. Barometer is set, Who can compete? With the ideal in heart. Oh so pure and pristine. Still I search hither, In this barren desert, Hoping against hope, To quench my thirst. My soles are sore,...
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