Sunday, February 23, 2014

An ode to my students....

May be, 
The tender and soft buds have bloomed 
into a youthful inflorescence 
Million dreams to be pollinated,
Yet to different habitats but to same species with love.

But, No…
Not that I have over ripened fruit inedible and old...
But, yes…
Only… for the dispersion to fly far and wild
They are in the perfect diffused clouded mould, 
Precipitation, yet to shower as it is too cold be drawn by
Gravity not yet demagnetized,
So still I remain unsold for tomorrow’s reduction sale.

It is their dreams that my heart beats
And share the zeal with a true deal
Life of feel of the time scale yet to ascertain,
As real as a welcome gale in the attic shop
Ever ready to go for the hammer in auction 
In ever obedience of fate.

But craves to remain in the living museum
As long as the god’s particle is broken further
May be at least in abstract and unseen form….

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