Mines-of-literature; where the words themselves are Masters, Workers, and Golds.



When I am burned alive

Once in a lifetime but always in memories

“Papa, what is that? Why are we burning it?” “Your mother. She is dead!”

Prayers from the God

The rainbow mantle, interchangeably, Is tied in the woods and then to the neck of my life. Every time when the serene breeze blows from the west; The mantle stands and watch—unchanged and unmoved. The idiosyncratic heart, masked in the... Continue Reading →

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