An open window,
Thoughts pouring in,
Blossoming into ideas,
Making brain a hot kiln.
Floating truth,
Suspended view,
Seeping freshness,
Everything looks anew.
Hazy horizon,
Target is a silhouette,
Aimlessly gliding,
Perfecting the imperfect.
Alas,
The settled dust blows,
Reality revealed,
As the mind flows.
There lies the target,
A mirror I see,
Staring back,
The reality is me!
1 comment:
a great poem, especially the irony of it all...
dharik
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