m o s s

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Standing always
like a solid rock,
covered in a green
proverbial growth,
but within all that
stagnant stillness,
gushed alive
through tiny tubes,
dreams of life
in a vibrant red.

A blacker night
the world in bed,
the sky screamed
a crackling fiery spread,
the slivered moon
choosing to hide,
what fell was rain
but came as a tide,
shaking foundations
of the deepest rooted
grounded sights.
the feared
muddy ensemble
that came with a charge,
seemed to match
the impatient beat
of the flow within,
tempting,
the habitual stationary
to an adventurous ride.

When peace returned
with the yellow light,
the empty space shone,
seeming conspicuous
by the absence of that,
treated as a granted
till the previous night.
what pervaded amongst
the many voices heard,
was more a shock
than a sense of loss –
lack of grounding
on the part of the rock,
or maybe the strength
of the vixens flow.
ignorant of the
secret yearning,
little did they know
the jump into uncertainty
was an intentional one,
as was his
stature before,
for this old stone
was done stagnating,
collecting moss.
————————–
Vidur
02Dec16

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Author: vidur sahdev

Living life...as it comes!

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