“Rouged heart of a lover,
In a Morning at a haugh,
Ingirt by insanity,
inquisitive to laugh
Beweeping at its thirst to peek,
In a savage world so deep,
A world of chasm and chaos
A world of his own clashing echoes”
Author was most probably talking about the world of a man, who is free yet bound, Wild yet sound. A man who is free of achieving anything in his own world and grasping the word of wisdom from the experience of obstacles he face. Yet he is bound of time, which is dripping away so fast like a fuel tank of a speeding car. He is the most wild in the relative consciousness he conspire but sound from the upper surface of his skin. He is the psycho serial killer as what his gushing blood in his heart tell him to be, but he is one spiritual saint to this world who preaches everyone to be what they want to be. A display of obscenity is always in his mind, A thirst of hitting the smoke is always babbling in his eyes but he choose to go null, calm down the bull and scream neutrally on the sounds of scratch, which are leaving despicable mark on his soul for his life. His persona is of a lover but reality is different, the truth somewhere lies in one of the rumours.
I kept the book aside and started to analyse this man’s life described in these eight lines. As I went deep into my thoughts I didn’t realised when I finished my coffee and when the sun had arrived like a sunny boy jumping in a daisy garden. Which certainly was the time for me to get ready for my office like every boring day.