What Ghalib would have written being by the side of a reclaimed ocean…
I guess there are far more poems that are not written than the written ones…
What Murakami would have written strolling through a cracks of a blue slum…
I guess the virgin roads are far more than the roads that are taken…
This constant discontent is basically our darkness that we can’t pierce.
We were created by the space between two stars…the fight for the unknown.
The glory you see on the roads; by the procession of cars, for the faces to struggle a little more and to fail a little less…
I don’t know whether all the poems I have written are the results of my restless struggle to tame the shameless reader inside me or not…
but I know all the times the verses come with a current of waves…I sail…I sail,
and I get a chance to remain a complete void for sometime more.

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Photograph: Daisuke Morishita.