The year just reaped three dangling months of its summer and the sun was adorably discharging splinters of light poking my opinionated curtain and then my grievous blankets

In the first ply of the tenth hour
There I was camouflaged by the yowling day
Yearning to broadcast my dream
Gleams of thoughts my sight hike
Erased doubts my father's tomb yield

I felt the thrill drill a key hole to the pitch of my silence
Bestowing the door to my solitary self made confinement
The world of souls gained flesh
Fresh from the womb a room to groom the language barrier
I carry on with both hands like composure nursing the innocent
Veiling every hour between the thighs of each day

The world I knew weary
Seeded bitter knowledge as life given moments but the ear to the second hearing was not cunning
My laboured senses seemed unruffled
Indisputably speckled potentiality on finer images
Even speech posses hands hance could heal an overused steed
Motionless visions bloom on crouching awareness assembling joyous days
As the pen brandished wounding the paper
As thoughts were sore to recall
Laid bare seeds my feet would sow
Paralysed hypotheses beared heavier burdens
Walked towards me with divine forbearance
All that they yelled was mine rusty dusty
Fixed my finger prints.

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