Ineffable, it’s scale,

Present like intertwined rails,

Pure sublime,

Connected are tree, bee, skies and we,

Monkeys without tails,

Guilt, shame, fear – our trails,

Submerged doubts,

Unknown, uncomfortable self,


Stored in deep,

It’s virtually- a game,

Insanity appears sane,

Doors of heart,

Opened for love,

Something walked through it,


A piece of birds, bees, skies and we

A piece of pain,

A brush Of paint,

Every colour is deep

Yet white overall,

Closer to all

Fonder to self..


Rupika Moitra

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