Today came the night of red flowers. It ended today with praying for the solar chord. It was also mauni Monday and women had fasted in the exchange for words.
There was nothing sattvic about the day even though I tried to make it. It all ended without a moral. Without a story as if either it wasn’t needed or we weren’t important.
The walk was like long. It didn’t feel long but sun had almost set and both had reached to aghora rhymes.
The once magic when attained, when passed over turns to mundane. Life.is only breath. Every other thing a distraction.