Am I turning into a sleepy island where no vegetation would ever grow? Have been I remained an island of similar sort always? I loved sea –for it carried me and my hopes- I don’t want to be in another shore. Turning to an Island, I want to slowly float among the tides being a muddy ship. No great mariner shall not decide my course-let them scull their own thoughts, let them moor it first- I won’t care yet another un-captained salty mud-ship travelling along me. I would float from blue to deep blue, and other hues of marine blue. Amidst another other thousand islands, I would be the abode of silence until my soil is sedimented to the seabed where seaweeds sprout; seahorses live.
.
.
1 comment:
I dont mind living in an island if tuna is available.
Post a Comment