A Crazy Travelogue Of An Ongoing Travel.... Comments

Several typhoons and tsunamis turn the woody pages of my unwritten autobiography topsy-turvy. Perched on the feeble bough of wisdom tree this wild bird stares into the empty space. This blunt chisel strikes love marks into Muse embodied bark. Martial Art and Occult Science are now almost drowned in very personal oblivion. This gardener of saplings sprinkles ritual rains on a holy mission.
Chew and swallow many divine bugs. Some are sour some are bitter and some are bloody pungent. Muse came in a dream before my birth but for years we were estranged in this stupid earth. She woke me up and reminded to wield the quill that was idly asleep in my unknown slumber. At one amorous moment we together brought forth the maiden poem and they now breed at the pace of mosquitoes so many butterfly wings. The awakened spirits may turn a dead volcano once the madding tinkles of the dancing figure cease to exist.

50 Bengali butterflies briskly fluttered into a hard cover sanctuary dearly christened Kabita Pagal Katha and 115 sea waves rushed ashore to Oyster. Between these two steps lies the extinguished pyre of the best friend. Third one and many others now look for clever connoisseurs. The tryst of trust and doubt stretches hands out to an alien vine.
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