Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Pijush Kanti Deb


Neither telepathy is known
nor an effective time-machine is owned
yet the race towards you
seems to be so automatic that
the frightening distance
between you and me
and the on going moking circumstance
from my land to your sky
fall like rain on my roof
forming two options for my destination,
either enjoying a bath
and returning to the old central point
or centralizing ownself in that new point
where capricious water flows me down.
I am still uncontented and restless
bearing the tight wrapping
of a long mysterious tape of life around me
and the resultant brain-beating
for unabated detection and solution
embracing someone like you
who is still a camouflazed mirror to me
as I look more at you
so I know more about myself
instead of you and your love for me.


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