A word, to a dead, to alive to breath in own ways,
Mastic mist and a mystic aura, it rained all day,
Shrines glittered and shanties melted; an unknown craze...
I passed by a puddle; filled but paltered for anyone's sate,
No thought stayed for long and mind whistled the haze,
I stared at dripping souls of unknown and never dazed...
Erosive possessive soul of mine, flinched but stayed,
Frightened, gasping humanity barely held on to say,
Possession soothes, and material longs as it may...
It has been an era to munch like a miser, likened to Sade,
Clouds saddled in horizon to leak; a joyous betray,
Teary turfy for future and smiles per say,
Been to those skies and hated grounds; a terrifying maze,
Still breathing; haven't seen all for me in destined tray.....
Amit
2 comments:
amazing that you joined poetry picnic,
how are you?
fantastic piece.
Thank you Taylor
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