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Burning Sabbaticals

It has been a long hiatus, I have migrated to a new city, joined a new workspace , made an entire library and workstation but I miss the soothing of the writing I used to have. This hiatus grows on me, every time I try to sleep in the night, I wonder how my words sleep, aching, bellowing in despair to be entangled in a original thought.

It’s difficult to say where to begin and why, I must excuse the exits and replenish this sight. For today although I am drowning in my bed in this darkness, from tomorrow I shall be burning this sabbatical. It’s time to pour, outpour and flood the thoughts, lets begin, shall we?

New Writing Desk In a New City.
attempt, fiction and poetry, fiction&writing, Freehand Writing, Life, Poems, Poetry, Random thoughts, Writings


A Man’s Oeuvre
is an image of his
hidden soul
It crawls out
every night
in every work,
where he puts,
all his heart and
might. So never judge
it by your naked eyes.
a naked soul would suffice,

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