where then...
"Summers spent
in the high grass
are just fragments,
ransacked memories.
Dark river snakes across this murky heart,
the boatman sings his downstream melody.
Nowhere to go but the horizon,
where then will I call my home?
How many roads have I wandered,
none and each my own?
Behind me the bridges have crumbled,
where then will I call my home?"
Susheela Raman. Beyond illusions. This night. For the first time I found myself thinking about leaving for a place I call home. Home of the heart. We are not as different as it seems. What a nice time we had tonight. Friends, be welcome here.
in the high grass
are just fragments,
ransacked memories.
Dark river snakes across this murky heart,
the boatman sings his downstream melody.
Nowhere to go but the horizon,
where then will I call my home?
How many roads have I wandered,
none and each my own?
Behind me the bridges have crumbled,
where then will I call my home?"
Susheela Raman. Beyond illusions. This night. For the first time I found myself thinking about leaving for a place I call home. Home of the heart. We are not as different as it seems. What a nice time we had tonight. Friends, be welcome here.
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