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now is the time every time I think to write you, I am left with obscure thoughts. I used to write extempore and to the extent that nitrogen bubbles cracked in the joints of my forelimbs but now is the time I feel falling deeper in the bottomless every time I stretch my imagination. The heart still sinks down in the lake with the diving sun at the backdrop of purple-shaded sky every time I walk through the valley of memories stumbling around every scene.

Now is the time every time I try to tap my fingers onto the keyboard it feels like the arms getting detached from the wings, the sentences wither away and feelings fade into a disparate thoughts of why and what to write and what to conceal from you.

Now is the time I feel lesser need of the force that I used to abnegate myself to interrupt to your life but I soulfully agree to the soul-burning decision of yours to keep from you away.

Now is the time I need more time everyday to accomplish my day-to-day tasks - I have entangled myself enough with the social-work and readings and everything that help me run away farther and farther from you.

Now is the time I spent most of the time with you, smelling you with in and finding you with out.

Now is the time I sleep wrapping your floating sketchy images around my body and soul and fighting with them.

Now is the time I try to create power of re-establishing the linkage of my mind and tongue and focusing upon the eloquence and brevity of my language that I felt I had lost over the time.

Now is the time at its hardest, now is the time at its lightest. Now is the time I'm more free, now is the time I am enslaved and captured. Now is the time I lost myself and now is the time I found my 'self'. Now is the familiar time and now is the time it is strange of the times.

Now is the time i wish to be then but now is the eventuality of the then.