AuthorShrestha, Avinash

Relative The cliffs are beautiful Even more beautiful than flowers The thorns are sorrowful Even more sorrowful than colors The heart drifts high above Higher than the butterflies, the birds Age flows Molten gold flows Illusion enfolds illusion, in turn hidden by another illusion Night enfolds darkness, like darkness hides by night Rejuvenation Embracing the river I fall asleep unafraid & when I wake I become the boundless sea All night I crawled awake in the lifespan of a caterpillar In the afternoon dream I've transformed into a butterfly in bright air I was arrogant, cruel, but an imperishable thorn until yesterday Someone heartless has dropped me--in the flower's brief body A feather I drift wherever--piggybacking the wind & in my soul I nurse a primitive desire to be a bird I'm only a seed...

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