vazambam

The Ancient Greeks used to think  The soul was a moth, a small  Bird or butterfly that escaped  From the body once  A mortal had left ...

All told,  When they finally fall To earth and rot, It’s not as if all that Hanging on was  Definitely not  For naught. 

of that jasmine  from first light  of day to night  winding through  narrow passage  ways smelling  of sea-  girded white washed ...

Of all the nutty  Scenarios that keep flashing  Through his double’s dealing  Mind’s eye, the one that sticks  Out from the others l...

In the end,  He who is continually  At odds with himself is close  To knowing who his chief adversary is,  Though never close enough  ...