Wednesday, 4 March 2020

Sun upon the Bhang Field

The Sun moves drunk
forgetting, shedding all the dazzling rays to the depth of the bhang field one after the other, that calls out to him, 'O Sun, you are torturing, you are not to know what are we through...slow down ...'

Sun listens and his foot steps wavers further...
The wind howls tamas into his ears...
He says, oh no...
And drags his chariot on his own...

All the horses are stolem now, one by one by the unseen keepers of the greenish white bhang flowers.
somewhere they are there...
lying half concious in the lush sways of wind upon them...

He calls out there name
And wind howls back ... come sleep, you dont have to work...

Sun drags his stubborn, heavy feet and almost closing eyes among the series of foggy entrapments throughout the day, as cloud embraced him tightly...
Only to fall into the dip velvety dips of the bhang valleys in the evening.

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