Monsoon of Eyes by Puloq Arafat - HTML preview

Salty Stream

Walked-ran-stopped..

And then again walking along the river side.

Watching river tides.

Trying to count the tides..

But this was barely impossible to count.

Seeming that I am a river,

Coming from a mountain stream..

And I am poking the two banks.

My roaring tides are breaking the banks.

Haphazardly I am flowing on to the estuary..

To meet the salty ocean.

Clinically this is my fight against the ocean.

I never want to be salty.

My extreme flow is captured by the water of ocean.

This is a matter of disgust.

Oh God-I will not flow anymore.

I don't want to be salty.

Deep inside I am salty enough.

How come I would be more salty.

Bitter lyrics I have written many..

In my long journey.

People throw wastage..

Vehicles throw dirty polluted oil..

To corrupt me.

But my strong flow tries to neutralize them.

I want to be free from rusty cripples.

No charges I want..

No wound I want to see…I wish a happy flow.