Egocentric Wind

The matrix drinks the words, in the anonymity of opaque meanings. Heart slips a flutter, to catch the unborn tomorrow. The deep azure measures the depth, the fear, drowning the architect, generic of doom. A drop floats in an ocean of solitude, a static milieu which has no quivering of its own. The roots always give pain. Your eyes are filled with tears. Now final image was a memoir of falling leaves. The dark effect splinters, into many seeds. The space widens between us in a hush of loneliness. Egocentric wind scrapes our bones. SATISH VERMA