Voidness and the Flow of Feather

Voidness and the Flow of Feather
The voidness trembles with the artificial radiance of the cabin crew. As I cast quivering glance on broad Birampur Road you appear in a moment with a wave of exultation flowed from Chinese spring flower. We start strewing promises, impostures and destiny-based symbolic feathers in the air. Entreaty makes the light pour from our sensation. Surroundings heat up because of unsteadiness of rare feathers; the indifferent sound of the river intrudes into the wings of invisible peacocks. Burning with impostures, the cloud’s wailing echoes with unbearable chorus in our thin hair. Promises, shrouded in the ether, make us stand erect with the incredible strength of tree-supports found near Bird’s Nest. Above the Great Wall we look at the blurred lighthouse of destiny. We swing ourselves into the saddles and ride off traversing a distance of six thousand miles. Our odorous existence gets seared as the stunted sentries approach with their fiery axes and spears. While getting lost in the spring of hills, in the chill air of valleys, we get nursing of the sun. We rush thereafter through dark, dank tunnels to offer the children a luminous geography and make preparation to cast off inner air in the vastness of the dark.