Sacred groves

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He smoked his first joint at an event by the horizon.
The voices in his head calmed down
The voices of a rock lover, a poet, a rebel, an artist, a law abiding-god fearing citizen.
All was silent and an individual was born.
“if that is what drugs do to you and drugs are bad ?” Well he was in for it, after all he had been no good all his life.
Temple in the jungle.
Temple in the jungle.
He repeated, and entered.
Dense forest ,abode of the gods, animals guard the entrance, let no one pass.

Snakes dance near the idols, tigers mate, birds flock here let no one enter the gates.
A shrill whistle pierced the silence of the night, the idols cast a hollow glow.
The gods resigned because the gates were opened by the people of the knight.
They followed the light till they could reach the sea,so limitless and free.
Clocks ticked time passed,time for intervention and invention at last.
Strange built forms in limelight the animals, did not flee did not fight they were just there.
Out of sight.

Mihir Deshpande

He is an aspiring architect. Love's music, poetry, art, philosophy. Classic rock entices him the most. He fancies for anything out of the ordinary, especially what people find meaningless or abstract, interests him. He likes the reactions he gets from people, they may be in form of comments or mails or even a face to face conversation, helps him think and write.

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