therighter

Watching milk white fog Painted across the hills Tried to find a bridge Crossing a needy heart   Squinted eyes hurt In search of water Gushing down far away Like tears of forlorn soldier   The kind Sun stepped Bore the misty clouds Quenching his thirst He smiled upon the old man   Diamonds drifted Like near heavens Of a love spectrum Bowing to ‘Pa   His three telescopes Were no companions Two were dead sons But this one fed him

If you have waited long you will be disappointed to know that the girls on the uphill disappeared. Perhaps, they are just hidden away from people like me. The ones who cluck their tongues and sympathise. But do nothing. The nightcrawlers aren't creepy. They are innocent than us in cumulative. The life you see is the glow of an endothermic reaction. Cool on the exterior. Latent from the interior. The fact that this happens under constant pressure is the irony of it. Sometimes, I don't understand the dynamics of science as much as I do of life. I know it has got to do with my agonistic mind. Layers and layers piled up but no foundation to hold it up. A weightless journey into a karst shaft whose fissures hurt yours upon falling on it.