Sunday, August 14, 2011

the game of the imagination

I would transform your cold arrogance; let it crumple the mountain of loneliness into streams of laughter moving along a string quartet with love engraved on the violin playing in a battle field soaking with freedom that retrieves humanity’s lost shadows; i would unearth your heart and let it dance against the moonlight, an interplay of confessions reverberating: a pendulum swing.


  1. You write much better than any writer I know.

    Which includes those fiction stories writers.

    You're not a writer, are you?


  2. Ha. Thanks Ovais for such a compliment; it made my day!

    I wish I was a "writer," as you say, but alas I'm just a writer in other ways.

    I'm just thankful to have blog readers that read and comment on my work.