Tuesday, 17 August 2010

Munna on the run. Again.

How can you stop running when you have travelled miles and sat on that bench and watched the birds? How can you stop when you know somewhere around the corner you'd find your favourite words written over the sky? How can you not go on when you know somewhere along the miles you'd meet the poet's ghost still in his walking boots. How would you ever explain that poetry sentenced you to a lifetime of running?


Anonymous said...

reminds me of lines read on anvita's blog:
a mind stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimension.
I suppose, once we are sentenced to running, we cannot escape.
cheers, lovely post.
romila :)

John Doe said...

i have seen that i run the hardest when i have nowhere to go.

mikimbizii said...