Writing poems
on your lips...

In valley of peace
lilies, I was searching...

I could not mediate.
God died in my home. Osho...

Turgid freedom of nondescript
energy moves on the...

At the end of the day,
standing before a shut window...

Disappointed.
I look at my hands to...

Despite the great divide
a dialogue must ensue, between...

Meditation was futile.
He turned his back...

You were afraid of,
unknown, walls pulled down...

Entrailes were sucked by grief
and pleasure bruised...

Since you knew, ?
it was going to cast a shadow...

Homeless, you
remained on the...