Freedom At Last

The tears have washed my sins. Taming the dead, I start a vivisection of myths. I take an impromptu walk, go inside my weaker self, abandon the pretention and come face to face with the fear. No portrait, no symbol, no map was needed. I was going to open a locked attic to liberate the imprisoned past. O colossus, O my golden bird, my sun baked grief has ripened in ruins of desires. I am free. SATISH VERMA