Perspectives

Susmita Paul

 

The island that blitzkriegs across the universe,

A wall built by light years,  now houses

a seed, layered in love,

Half-spoken, interminable dreams.

 

Whenever the glass is still, you dip the pawn;

You forget that the forgotten memories now screen the undeniable,

You wait for time to turn back.

 

If we can look back a couple of parsecs,

Nineteen trillion miles create

Little lightnings in time’s banyan sapling.

 

Seeking the droplets of the I that was there in my-story,

I traverse the solar winds;

Vapour covered glasses in bathroom speak-

Rest now in upturned leaves of welcome.

Mirage is but another reality.