We hope that time will come,but it keeps slipping away.It is like an imaginary guest that you await for ages. When is the timefor time to come? - is the most rhetorical question.And will it show upas mannaor as a hangman? - is the most gnawing one.Its divine timing always defeats our human prediction.And while we see into the horizon line,time chases hour handwith the unfailing persistenceand enchanting affliction.As we anxiously waste it,it replenishes itself with ease and calm.It will not come.It's here. It's now.
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Thank You Letters To Coronavirus
PoetryWe shall not be afraid and fall into victimhood. It was designed to kill but it rebirthed to grant us a life; to revive divine sisterhood and brotherhood; to awaken from darkness into the light. We shall not feel disserved as it serves our highest...
