Sunday

Untitled

The twilight filters,
through heavens of green,
onto the path,
that flows into dales unseen.

Stardust in the flow,
obfuscated, the existent glow.
Vapours of dew,
intoxicating the chosen few.

The gong sounds,
like the end,
within the hallowed bounds,
of the battle's last bend.

5 comments:

Fingers said...

Love this one.
Why's it untitled, Sagar?


:)

Sagar said...

because the mood is. :-)

Fingers said...

An untitled mood....
hmm food for thought

And about the post on my blog..
if you read the fine print, you'll see what I mean...

:)

chingachgook said...

who are these chosen few ?? i hope i am one of them i like being in the chosen. heheheheheh

Sagar said...

ching~so be it!

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