:::…VIRTUOSO…:::

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:::…VIRTUOSO…:::

Feels As Sitar
Your Heavenly-Body Curve’s Sensory Cords.
Please Whisper …
Which Melody Do I Play?

Was That My Hands,
That Secured You
From The Ordinary Punches
That Obstetrics The Deepest Sighs?

Are These Fingers,
As Sliding On Sensitive-Curvy-Strings,
To The Door Of A Fertile Parabolic Plains
Rises You From The Lowest
To Null The Slut-Height?

Or The Heart,
Uniforms The Most Beautifully
According To My Tailored Wishes,
As The Land Merges With The Sky?

Feels As Sitar
Your Heavenly-Body Curve’s Sensory Cords.
Please Whisper …
Which Melody Do I Play?

Is The Thought …
Where The Music Is Born,
As The Fingers Glides The Sensory-Cords To Create A Rhythm Of Love In The Breath,
While Lust Crumbles To Dust?

Or Is That The Superiority,
Which Creates The Failure,
As The Drunk Days
In A Trans Of Walking
Which Reveals The Secrets
To Sigh Sent Forth?

If That Is The Secret,
Let It Remain The Secret Forever.
Forbid That End Of The Magic,
As Murky And Low-State, I Am.

– Jayendra Ashara …2013.10.16…

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