I sit alone and ponder, as if musings of
fireflieswill be spared or repaired, for once the night with
dandelions seems more garage, door of unknown
realms close to choose.
And the seeping snails sleep in the corner,
like a soft tune pasted below to jar and bell,
bells ring the infinite of earthling presence,
a whimpering shatters the voided silence.
I smudged the blatter inks, to be in hope or
be lost, perhaps to sprinkle a mediocre
pit of girth, size of a zero infinity wall
containing finitely arithmetical huffs.
It's neat and clean, for now I left the door unlocked—
nights are best forgotten, tomorrow is a shrouded armour,
let me share the ghost of past,
where I used to fly with an undying quill.
— 20/03/2023
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Although, I've published this poem today but this is meant for world poetry day (21/03/2023).
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PoetryFeatured on @WattpadPoetry / 16.04.2023 ❝ sometimes we find the words, yet somewhere they find us, together we dive into the ocean, unknown to the world, unaware of the uncertainty ❞ ━━━━━━━━━━━ n e w poems are always added in the beginning. Q u...