the life moves as usual on the
path of uncertainty, a little
bit closeness a little
bit fatality, who
knows,
what's hidden in the cave of destiny,
sometimes, in remote wallop
sometimes, without
clouds heavy
rains, the
mood
of nature similar to anchorite, never
stays in one place, in the morning
somewhere on the river bed
and, in the end of day
he exists near
the bonfire
in the
dense mysterious forest, however
in every condition it remains
in the chest of flint - -
* *
- SHANTANU SANYAL
