Monday, 27 October 2014

The world is a dot

Does it ever occur to you that growing up creates an illusion that the universe is shrinking and the only way to resist this shrinking is realization.

The world is a dot

What does it all bring us to,
Our senses conjoined, if not,
Reaping a sky deep Blue,
A lifetime coined, a moment sought,

In turning this stone, in dreaming a lot,
Shaping our world from things we caught.

Till when a call brings to our dive,
A fall defined, a closing plot,
Reaping the shares of our hive,
a nobel beleif, A battle fought.

In turning the stone, in dreaming a lot,
Shaping our world from dreams we lost.

Then it falls, all from the sight,
Our senses conjoined, in a clot
guided by pulses, breath and light,
We seive through memory, spot by spot.

In turning as stone, still dreaming a lot,
Shaping our world dot by dot.


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