The poem composed last winter (November 2023 is already last year!!!) while I was reading JD’s “Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward” and pondering about the fact that I, too, was going through the same thing (albeit in complimentary directions to Donne’s). Travelling north while my mind is bent on south (fine, centre).
Presenting to you in the hoarsest shitty voice that one could get.
Things Adil Writes 