Hope flies in the feather of a dove,
curls up with the caress of a
'touch-me-not',
hope embraces the faltering
steps of a toddler.
- Nuzhat
Sunday, August 22, 2010
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Max Babi, my guru, like Tukaram has a weakness - he barely records his prolific output of poetry. Tukaram is immortal because of Santaji Jagnade who collected his works; this is my attempt to get as much of Max's stuff (he sends it on SMS) in one place.
so beautiful, nuzhat. i'm relearning hope these days due to some progress on chronic fatigue syndrome and the discovery of the mouse retroviruses. HOPE... we all need it. xoxoxoox
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