that rudeness wasn't new, many
times in life, it happens, we
haven't control on the
time, it plays on
the fingers
of
destiny, several times we keep
the glass vase on the safe
place, a little flick, but
breaks the dreamy
blossom, the
life has
its
own compulsion, some stories
never be expressed, it
remained beneath
the chest. just
shrouded
by the
mist,
some mystique language exists
in the depth of eyes as the
unresolved scripts of
bygone era !
toward the
extinct.
* *
- SHANTANU SANYAL
http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.in/
blue bird acrylic painting on wood mantel craft berrybush
where I'm tired, I'm ready to face
another deception of life,
in your quiver, how
many arrows
are left,
I do not know, but I've been toxin
free since a long time, the
chest became numb,
the eyes are the
arid land of
equator,
you know, when pain reaches to
extreme point, it becomes
itself a remedy, the
barren blooms
know how
to smile in the thorny grove, do -
not under estimate anybody,
nobody knows, the
inscription of
forehead,
all days are not equal, perhaps - -
some beautiful moments
are waiting in the
backstage,
the
show of life is still continued, just
patience is required - -
* *
- SHANTANU SANYAL
http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.in/
art by Johanna Bohoy
