The chameleon’s soul

I am, the dweller of ravines that never bore an offspring and of fertile plains too perched inside me are the deserts in glove with stifling humid rains my facade stretched between prescribed faith & mendicant ways, equally lured towards obscurity and bling fame my acts are celibate as the temple purohit and excessing too, like the dope czar I'm in perpetual flux, staticity … Continue reading The chameleon’s soul