The mind is wayward, oft wandering across distances that stretch, imaginary lands are traversed which provide teeming delight that quench the sensory lips, lays bare hostile thoughts, more and more like a deft cyclone it whirls unable to wind it's...
The mind is wayward, oft wandering across distances that stretch, imaginary lands are traversed which provide teeming delight that quench the sensory lips, lays bare hostile thoughts, more and more like a deft cyclone it whirls unable to wind it's laxative foolishness.We , yet yearn for that burning love.Once the mind is channelised, our desire for embracing totality and achieving one- ment with the full- ness slowly becomes realised. These poems are spiritual inclining.