A nimbus encircling my secluded self; Infused ink blue hue around the prodigy I pettishly encompass beneath the blankets; Relapsed and ruminated I bowed to her queries; With a response but without an elucidation. Clans, flesh and kindred, persona of my Seclusion: hunky, ancestral and self defining, They said it's my spinal nerves, stand for them, Happiness is them, dependence is customary for An Indian woman, she sacrifices and only burn herself.
Years of burning and the light's shade; Crimson, pale yellow and then solemn black; Now a circle. Lit a candle within me; They said it's too bright, put off, be like a woman: Unable to burn, I yearned to open the windows around. Reaching the patio and then the streets; They blew, mouthful and in doses of storms. The candle lit by the sparkle of the fire I gathered over the years only burnt, wasn't that Enough to burn the halo? Could you see a rainbow Around the nimbus?