Green: A plucked flower of irreparable loss.

16th October 2023 | 12 Views

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๐“๐ก๐ž ๐ญ๐ซ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฅ๐ž ๐ก๐จ๐ซ๐ง๐ž๐ ๐ž๐ฅ๐ž๐ฉ๐ก๐š๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ง๐ง๐š๐ซ ๐›๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐Ÿ๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ญ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ž๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ž ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ง ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐š๐œ๐ž๐ ๐ข๐ญ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ๐š๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐œ ๐š๐ซ๐ญ๐ž๐ซ๐ข๐ž๐ฌ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐›๐š๐œ๐ค๐ฐ๐š๐ญ๐ž๐ซ๐ฌ. The goblet of the invisible moon took water from it and made a strong kattan tea, while the smell of spice and steam from the trunks of the idukki dew mountains rose. Innocuous breeze melts in oleaginous gypsy soul pots of lakkam waterfalls. Green bearded trees are welcoming the butterscotch clouds to hug the never ending odyssey. One can only hear their naked breath talking to the vast palace of the skies. The gentleness of rain brings free kulfi hailstones from cumulonimbus palanquin.ย 

๐“he queen without a crown is echoing from the other side when mattupetty repairing her guitar strings borrowed from the webs of weaving spiders. The drops of water hanging in the leaf blades cwtch the auburn soil to hold the kiss for longer. Feel the harbinger of hope without a blanket in the chilling air venting out through the hill station. The ephimeral sunset is ready to accept your ochre sky of emotional doldrums. The mind should change here like pottery instead of broken glasses. ๐ˆ๐Ÿ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐š๐ง๐ญ ๐ญ๐จ ๐Ÿ๐ž๐ž๐ฅ ๐œ๐จ๐ฅ๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ฌ๐ข๐๐ž, ๐ข๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง๐ž๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐š๐›๐ฅ๐ž ๐ญ๐จ ๐ ๐ž๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ž๐ญ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ฌ๐ข๐๐ž. Why are we so late to realize that wild vines that spread across the legs are better than ropes around the neck?ย 

๐“he nature should be an indestructible temple. A worship place to experience the sound of birds, animals, leaves, flowers, rivers and the eternal rain. Does these contraction and relaxation of diaphragm being in love with the viridescent intervals of heartbeats before our specks of dust become airborne? ๐ƒ๐จ๐จ๐ซ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐š๐ซ๐ž ๐ก๐ฎ๐ง๐ ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ซ๐š๐ฏ๐ž๐ฅ..๐ก๐ฎ๐ง๐ ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ž๐ง๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก ๐ญ๐จ ๐ž๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐จ๐ซ๐ž. ๐–๐ก๐ฒ ๐๐ข๐ž ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐  ๐Ÿ๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฉ๐š๐ช๐ฎ๐ž ๐ซ๐จ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฌ?

There is a forest in the mountains away from the land of cannibals. There, I have an autumn girl and a tree to drop the greens on. O’ the magpie robins swinging on the golden banynan leaves, Did you know? Today, there are no dark violet butterfly flowers to seduce. The nights giggles like olent jasmines in the orbal LEDs. A festoon of light cruise over the serpentine petals. Is this shadow or bones? The crows get startled. A nest of macow fronds in the green periwinkles. A firewood cabin was made, slitting the throat of mango tree. Did the quench lost for you when hornbill rain crooning in woebegone? If I was born as termites in a mud hut, I might be able to help you always. Sati, you will not be reduced to ashes by the fire burning in the piles. Let the dead streams of eyes flow like your perennial rivers.


Rahul Nambiar



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