doesn't demand more pleasure,
it becomes gradually the
anchorite, denial of
outer beauties,
peculiar
self
identity emerges with hundreds
petals of rare lotus, life
searches your love
somewhere into
the whorl of
spiny
bloom, the crystalline teardrops
of self-immolation existed,
in the umbilicus of
cognition, the
real
reflection of character becomes
clear here, soul meets to
absolute soul in a
way that mirror
becomes
the life,
- - SHANTANU SANYAL
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