Dear readers,

Some of my upcoming posts will be letters I have thought of writing to my Saviour ever since I have thought of thoughts. They keep me away from getting attuned to the hemlock and teach me to pick up the ' out of the ordinary' factor, now and then. That my piling up stack of gibberish has always been an extension of my soul and is no less true than the ones yet to come, comments on my spirit of driving or being driven; these letters are a bit more close to my heart. A bit more special. Just like last night's moist pillow.

Who am I?

What am I?

Has remained untold to Me:

Till in bed,

I lie unsaid,

And the Dreams are yet to be!

I ask Him as always, Can I tame the goldfish of poetic plenitude?