The disjoined one lies in the morass. It lies still, but keeps squeaking… Snakes and crabs board often now, and that makes the giant recall how swiftly it sailed away masses of twelve to the other side. That abandoned savior on the bank of Ganges, it keeps staring the young ones as they pass by in front of its eyes.




The new and the small, but spirits big and held high in sky, it waves with the air. While the children bathe, it rests and prepares for the next ride. With pride in its youth, it takes the responsibility of the bygone savior.






Sitting somewhere and watching as the sun goes down, I observe how it takes away all the colors with it. The young and the old, the time has plans for each one of them.


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