I become


Illusions are indefinite
And someday everything transforms into one
Like two parallel lines plan
a maverick meet at infinity
Like survivers search for
some other universe and finally within posses one
Like the soil watches all neighbouring
trees and dream to be the same
Like a dying wasp sporadically
turns into a flying meteor of unfulfilled desires
In the same way,
I become that moon-gazing bird on new moon nights.

– Prachi Rathore –

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