Tongue on fire.

The impulse were buried deep unknown abstractedly in labyrinthine corridors of profound thoughts sallow surface filled with clods Attempt to plow/harrow only added to debris/malise Despite gradual depredation of time some amber smoldering tempering weeds And roots of all roots yet hearts simmering And as if cant be doused or turn into ashes So order...

The confusions.

One descended on scene with surrounding impassive beauties And trapped with creatures of voracious aptitude Till infancy values assigned by gullible understanding of longings/belongings with time stretching body catapulting from that microcosm of oneness To varying perceptions those toys losing relevance with indulgence with bigger ones demands goes on inflating confusion galore stalking creatures /sorcerer...

This was to happen.

This was to happen It was the hell that was to be trudged before being out of it out of it Sufficient As if only hell is real with no antonyms And it is quite achievement to be out of it with no more wandering entanglements of ups and down.  

All days going to pass.

All days are going to pass Fraught with weighted stiffness or easy smooth sailing All the days are going to pass Days goes on passing and are passed without any concern of origin or end devoid of any destination From the eternal universe a drama been devolved on this tiny planet of no much consequences...

Navel Gazing.

When the adjustment with surrounding vitiates and incursion to outer fields catches more burnt then one focuses to ones navel to immerse in its gazing.Being indulgent in petty incidents and remaining drowned in them agog with self contemplation etc at expense of wider reality. Immerse in contemplation about happening around self and  ones proclivities causes...