A poem from Pratyush Dayal Misrah
If it burns, let it burn,
The wind will heave the wrath further,
The leaves burn crumbling to core,
And, you breath universes beyond & farther.
Step out to the edge of tunnel,
Bright white light blinding,
Drop a pin into the lake, as it ripples, the pin disintegrates, kissing the bed.
Rain clatters at my window, mist in the skin and soul of the warmth…
You push open the doors, the air rushes out.
Drop by drop, rain falls to your fingertips, sliding down, dripping from your cliff.
And you stay put, hearing the symphony,
Discordant denominators going in sync with grand melody.
My soul swirls in me,
Breath evanescing from the leaves, crushed comics sparkle.
The symphony of infinite harmonies, thousand winds subsuming in each other
You sit by the wall, turning a page, shaking your bind,
You lie crippled on the edge of fire.
Eyes turn dry…
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