Saturday, 8 March 2014

A Blood Stained Hair In The Pages

I waited for the day to end, the thought that began the day. And as I waited, my prayers waited. And as I wait to fall asleep, my prayers wait for me. I have run to all four corners of the world beneath my hands, and yet, you are still absent. Nobody is missing in action. People go missing in a state of not being in action, simply because they are missing. At least, their action has nothing to do with my action. There is no action to be found, only stillness. Was that not banter infused jargon at its finest? No, not its finest - its weakest. Waiting is when time claims a dominant position over a human - dimensions are draconian.

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