Spiteful
Spiteful
At the rupture of the day
resting elbows on the window sill
watching the beauty
returning to the earth.
Mesmerizing was it...
Mountains painted with silver and gold
green valleys, terraced land,
birds, and insects
preparing for the day.
Cool breeze caressing my face
blowing my drowsiness
but the spiteful fog
rushed towards me...
Swallowed every being
pushing faraway everything.
Most violently I tried to get through...
Paradoxically, I dissolved in it.
Poetry by Bhakta Raj Giri
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Written on 2006-12-12 at 14:19
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